


drabbles and prompt fills and asks, oh my!

by WritingToKeepMySanity



Category: Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: A little angst, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Kelly Kids, M/M, Mostly Fluff, Prompt Fill, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-05
Updated: 2019-01-08
Packaged: 2019-02-28 23:17:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 41
Words: 23,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13281978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WritingToKeepMySanity/pseuds/WritingToKeepMySanity
Summary: basically what it says on the tin. cross-posted prompt fills and drabbles from my tumblr, wordshakerofgallifrey, under the creative tag 'disney writes stuff'.





	1. i feel that somethin’ (i want to hold your hand)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a thing with Jack and Kath and hands, and this was the result.

Oddly enough, it’s the first thing she notices about him. When she flicks her gaze downwards, avoiding his eyes, Katherine catches a glance of a pair of rough, work-worn hands.

***

Her hands are small—what’s the word? Dainty?—Jack thinks as she points to the chalkboard, calls him out on his flirtin’. Almost like they’d break if ya held ‘em too tight. 

***

Katherine catches him drawing during the show, the movements of his hands fluid and sure. She’s surprised at the ease of the motion, enthralled even, that it’s not until she notices that his gaze is shifting between the page and her face that she realizes he drawing _her_. 

_What are you doing?!_

***

In the private box, dimly lit, Jack sees her hands again as she writes in her notebook. They still look small, but there’s a smudge of graphite on her thumb, ink smeared on her wrist. 

***

She sees him in Medda’s theater, backdrop freshly painted, and, for the first time, Katherine notices the paint dotting the backs of his hands, dried under his fingernails. And she’s surprised to see such hardened hands create things so lovely.

***

_If I were a boy, you’d be looking at me through one swollen eye!_

He challenges her, tells her to give it her best shot, tucks her fist under his chin. Jack feels her fingers clench and he seriously thinks she’s about to hit him. Instead, both her hands come up to grasp the sides of his face and she kisses him. And he realizes that her hands are stronger than they appear.

***

Katherine turns to leave him in the basement with Darcy and Bill; she needs to get across town to see the governor, but before she can, he clasps her hand to his chest. The hand over hers is warm, calloused, and gentler than she was expecting. 

_Wish us luck._

_***_

She takes his hand, promises him she’ll stay by his side no matter what he chooses.

_For sure?_

_For sure._

He squeezes her hand, kisses her in front of the Newsies, the governor, her father. He doesn’t care. They part and he makes his decision. 

Hand-in-hand, they walk into a new tomorrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd love to know your thoughts!! Here, or on tumblr, whichever you prefer!
> 
> (also, I apologize for the title. It's corny and not very good, but accurately describes what this series/story/whatever is)
> 
> Comments, concerns, and critiques welcome. Peace, love, and sanity!


	2. Quiet Evenings

It wasn’t uncommon to enter the Kelly home and see its occupants wrapped up on the couch, reading the paper, a book, sketching and writing on tablets, or even just curled up with their morning coffee.

It was an old couch, one they’d bought for their first apartment right out of college, when they were just two kids trying to make it on their own. It was the only furniture they had for nearly a month, the two of them falling asleep on it, curled around each other.

Even after their little apartment slowly filled with other seating options—and a real bed—the couch was always their favorite.

After college, and after they both started their careers, their lives grew hectic and those quiet evenings on the couch grew further and further between.

But those nights when they were home at the same time, when they didn’t have layouts to finish or articles to edit, they migrated to the couch, content to just be with each other.

It was one of those quiet nights tonight. Katherine sat curled in the corner, taking advantage of a rare evening of no work to catch up on one of the many books in her to-read pile, fingers trailing lightly through Jack’s short hair. Jack lay with his head in her lap, sketchbook propped against his bent knees as he idly sketched.

Soft music played from Katherine’s phone, and the only other sounds in the room was the turning of pages and the scratching of pencil.

Jack took his eyes off the page in front of him to look up at Katherine. He once compared her to an angel—in a slightly drunken 3 am voicemail she never let him live down—but from where he was, seeing the light halo around her loose curls and her face free of the creases she got when she was too stressed, he had a hard time believing she hadn’t been heaven-sent.

Katherine’s hand stopped combing through his hair as she moved to tap his forehead with her index finger. “I can feel you staring,” she said softly, not looking up from her book. “What do you want?”

Jack caught her wrist and brought her hand down to his lips, pressing a kiss to her knuckle just above her wedding band. “Nothin’,” he said honestly. “I just love you, is all.”

The hand in his squeezed his fingers tightly a moment and she took her eyes off the book in front of her to smile at him. “I love you, too.” Katherine bent slightly to press a kiss to his brow before letting go of his hand and resuming her soft movements in his hair as she went back to her book.

Jack closed his sketchbook and stretched his legs out to prop his feet against the arm of the couch, closing his eyes.

Neither of them would change anything about their lives, but these quiet nights together were always welcomed, and always cherished.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments, concerns, and critiques welcome. Peace, love, and sanity!


	3. Three Sentence Fics

**1) Jack + Katherine, 1940s London**

Churchill was a hard to understand, with the accent and the man’s tendency to garble his words together, but the message was clear— _the war was over_.

Jack let out a whoop, and, following his—incredibly rash—instincts, grabbed Katherine around the waist, dipping her as he planted a kiss to her lips. When he realized what he’d done, he expected a lot of reactions from her—for her to slap him, shove him away, yell at him for not maintaining their professional relationship—but he never, _ever_ , expected her to kiss him back.

 

**2) Spot + Race, Modern AU**

“Race, I swear if you take one more picture, I’ll—” _click_ “—That’s it, gimme your phone,” Spot growled, reaching for Racetrack’s phone.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Race laughed, holding the phone just out of reach, and asking, “One more, with the ring?”

Rolling his eyes, Spot stop reaching for the device—Racer was too tall and he _knew_  it, damn him—and allowed his fiancé to take one last silly selfie with him, new ring displayed proudly.

 

**3) Jack + Kath, College AU**

Jack was just pulling out his notebook for his first eight a.m. class, when a girl, with her long red hair tied in a messy bun, slammed down her books in the seat next to him and, in a terrifyingly impressive move, dumped a can of Monster in her travel coffee mug and downed it.

“Don’t ask,” she muttered, glaring slightly at him.

Jack shook his head quickly and said, “Wasn’t gonna, but, uh, remind me not to get on your bad side.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments, concerns, and critiques welcome. Peace, love, and sanity!


	4. Ducks for Chicks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Completely silly little headcanon I have for Jack, Davey, and Crutchie that is slightly based on true events.

“This is without a doubt the stupidest plan you’ve ever had. Of course I’m in,” Crutchie said, grinning.

_“I’m_ not,” Dave said, shaking his head. “Jack, I actually believe this is the single worst idea you’ve ever had.”

“How hard can it be, Davey?” Jack asked. “We fill the sink up with some water, toss ‘em bread every now and then, they’ll be fine.”

“Jack, they won’t stay this small, tell me you understand that.”

“Aw, Davey, are ya really gonna throw these li’l guys out?” Crutchie held up one of the small creatures to Dave’s face. Scrunching his nose, Dave gently pushed Crutchie’s hand away.

“Yeah, Davey,” Jack added. “They were all alone and they imprinted on us and now they need us.”

Dave shook his head. “We can’t keep them.”

“So you’re just gonna throw two orphan ducklings out on the streets? What, is this a ‘no-orphans zone’? Should Crutchie and I go, too, Davey? Is that what you’re sayin’?” Jack asked indignantly, hooking an arm around Crutchie’s neck.

Dave groaned, scrubbing his face with his hands. Jack was really going for it if he was playing the orphan card. “Jack, there are rules, and it’s never gonna work…”

“But, Davey, we already named this one after you.” Crutchie held up the duckling again, close to Dave’s face. “Please, Papa,” he said in a high voice. “Please don’t throw me out. I’ll be a good li’l duck.”

Dave’s resolve was weakening and he couldn’t believe it.

Actually, he could. It took a monster to say no to Crutchie when he looked at you all earnestly like that.

Crutchie gave one last, pathetic, “Please, Papa?”, holding the duckling right in front of Dave’s face, and Dave was gone.

“Okay, fine. Get Kath to sign off on it, Jack, and we’ll try it. Only for a week, though!” he added over their cheering.

Jack wasted no time pulling out his phone and calling Katherine. “Hey, Kath, I gotta woman question for ya from Dave and Crutchie. Would a duckling help a guy get a girl?…. Well, yeah we got two in here now. It’s gonna be a thing. ‘Ducks for Chicks’.” He was quiet a long moment before saying “Mm-hmm. I see. Thanks, Kath”, and hanging up.

“Well?” Davey asked, cradling one of the ducklings. “What’d she say?”

“Didn’t, actually.” Jack said. “She just started laughing, and then I think she dropped the phone.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I know this seems ridiculous, but my uncle actually attempted "Ducks for Chicks" when he was in college. He and his suite mates actually tried raising ducklings in their dorm in an attempt to pick up girls. 
> 
> (also, I know you're not supposed to feed ducks bread. Jack and Crutchie don't at this point, though, but figure it out when they look up how to take care of ducks. because of course they keep them)
> 
> Comments, concerns, and critiques welcome. Peace, love, and sanity!


	5. Anyone Can Art

“The paint’s supposed to go _where_?” Dave asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Anywhere!” Jack yelled gleefully, slinging his brush at the canvas.

Loud rock music poured from the ancient, paint-splattered stereo in the corner. Dave eyed the scene warily.

“Uhm, Jack when ya said you needed help with your final, I thought maybe you needed me to go over vocab with you, or proofread your term paper—“

“Nah, I got Kath to do that for me.” Jack wiped his forehead with the back of his arm, leaving a streak of yellow paint in its wake. “C’mon, Davey grab a brush.”

“I’ll screw it up.” Dave protested.

“Ya can’t screw it up, it’s art.” Jack insisted. “Anyone can art. Like the movie.”

“What movie?”

“The one with the talkin’ rat.”

Dave shook his head. “That was _Ratatouille_ and it was ‘anyone can _cook_ ’.”

Jack waved a hand dismissively. “Same philosophy.”

“I’m not good at art.” Dave tried again.

“Well then think of it as throwin’ paint at a canvas. Can’t screw that up.”

“I’m not dressed for it,” he protested weakly. There was nothing special about his jeans and flannel shirt, and Jack knew it.

Rolling his eyes, Jack dropped the brush—which splattered hot pink paint on his Converse—and picked up a smock, throwing it at Davey’s face. “There. Now you’re outta excuses. Pick up a brush.”

Dave sighed and pulled it over his head. “Why me?”

“‘Cause ya owe me for gettin’ rid of the ducks.”

“Oh c’mon,” Davey groaned, dipping a brush carefully in green paint. “Not those damn ducks again.”

Jack spoke over him, dramatically clutching a hand to his heart. “They were defenseless baby ducklings, and I just wanted to give ‘em a lovin’ home—“

“In our dorm!”

“—And you made me turn ‘em out to the cold, cruel world.”

“I’m not having this conversation again, Jack.” Dave said with finality as he carefully flicked his paintbrush at the canvas, unsure of what he was supposed to do.

Jack shook his head, dropping another paint brush and picking up a water balloon filled with paint. A quick “watch out!” was the only warning Dave had before Jack chucked it at the canvas.

“Oh yeah, that looks good. Here, Davey, try one of these.”

They— _art? Can that be used as a verb?_ —for a while in silence, before Jack took a step back and said “There. It’s finished.”

It just looked like a mess of colors to Davey, but Jack was the art major, so he just agreed and dropped his brush, pulling the smock off over his head. “Looks good, Jackie.”

“It does, doesn’t it?” Jack agreed. “I think I’ll hang it in our dorm. ‘Less, of course, you’re gonna make me throw it out like the—“

“God, Kelly, just shut up about the ducks.”

“Crutchie _loved_ those ducks, David!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments, concerns, and critiques welcome. Peace, love, and sanity!


	6. Rainy Day

“Looks like we’ll be trapped for a while…” Jack said, looking out the window as he poured coffee into two mugs.

“How bad does it look out there?” Katherine asked from her spot on the couch.

Jack winced as the rain pounded against the windows and lightning streaked across the sky. “One… two…” he muttered, and thunder crashed. He let the curtain fall. “Bad enough. Wouldn’t wanna be out in it.”

“Guess we’re staying in today,” Katherine said, curling her feet under her on the couch. “The kids will _love_  that.”

“Aw, c’mon, Ace,” Jack handed her a coffee mug, pressing a kiss to her cheek as he did. “Rainy day with three kids. It’ll be great fun.”

Tossing a throw pillow at his head, Katherine just shook her head, taking a sip of her coffee. He sat next to her with his own coffee and she stretched her legs out, propping them up in his lap. 

They sat there quietly for a few minutes, listening to the storm outside, before they heard a door open from down the hallway, and the patter of feet against the hardwood floor.

“Dadddyyyy!” Lucy ran into the room, sliding in her socks, stopping abruptly when she saw Katherine. “Mama! You’re still here!” 

“I am!” Katherine scooped Lucy up, setting her in her lap, carefully maneuvering her coffee mug out of the way. “It’s Saturday, remember?”

“Oh yeah.” Lucy said, looping her arms around Katherine’s neck. Perking up she twisted to look at Jack. “Yeah! Daddy, you said we could go to the park on Saturday.”

Jack sighed and rubbed a hand through his hair. “I know I said we could, sweetheart, but it’s stormin’ outside, so we can’t."

Pushing out her lower lip, Lucy tightened her arms around Katherine’s neck. “But…”

“How ‘bout,” Jack interrupted, hoping to stop the waterworks before they began. “When your brothers get up, we build a blanket fort and watch some movies today?”

Lucy brightened considerably, jumping off of Katherine’s lap. “Yeah! And we can make popcorn and watch movies… ‘M gonna go get Pete and Corey!” She ran off, still rattling off things they could do in the fort.

Katherine tipped her head back on couch with a sigh. “I’m going to need more coffee.”

Jack laughed, standing and taking her hand, pulling her reluctantly to her feet. “C’mon, Mrs. Kelly. Breakfast first.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love writing the Kelly kids and I hope to do more of it once I've finished Heart on the Trigger..
> 
> Comments, concerns, and critiques welcome. Peace, love, and sanity!


	7. Spot Conlon is a Bad Influence (Christmas Edition): the Aftermath

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The follow-up no one needed to my Christmas one-shot “Spot Conlon is a Bad Influence (Christmas Edition)”

"YOU DID WHAT?!"

Spot had faced his share of scary guys in his time—came with livin’ in Brooklyn—but he’d never been quite so scared of any of them as he was of Katherine Kelly in that moment.

Swallowing hard, he cut his gaze to Race, who was helping Jack wrangle the three kids in their coats and boots.

“Oh, no,” Race shook his head, tugging Lucy’s hat on for her. “Don’t drag me into this. I told you not to show ‘em that movie.”

“Is Mama gonna kill Spot?” Corey whispered to Jack.

Jack tilted his head, considering this as he helped Corey tie his shoe. “Not while you three are in the room,” he finally said. “We can’t afford ta send ya all to therapy.”

“What’s therapy?” Pete asked, looking up at Jack from his place on the floor.

“Spot. Conlon. Did you show my children _Die Hard_?” Katherine’s arms were crossed and there was a steely glint in her eyes. 

He tried not to fidget under her stare. “Only a scene or two,” Spot admitted, mumbling. 

Katherine started to say something else when Race spoke up. “Hey, uh, Kath, before ya kill my boyfriend, I think there’s somethin’ ya oughta know.”

“What could possibly keep me from strangling him now?”

“You mean besides the fact that our children are still here?” Jack muttered under his breath. 

Crossing the room to Katherine, Race cupped his hand and whispered in her ear. Katherine dropped her arms in surprise. “Really?” she asked, shocked.

“Swear on my Coronas.”

“Anthony!” She threw her arms around him in a hug, and Jack and Spot exchanged a look behind her back. The former shrugged, and picked up his youngest.

“Alright. Lucy, Pete, Corey, say thank you ta Spot and Uncle Tony for watchin’ ya.”

“Thank you!” the kids chorused, and Katherine pulled away from Race. Pulling her coat tighter around her, she stopped in front of Spot on her way out. 

“We’re not done with this conversation.” Then, surprising him, she gave him a quick hug. “Thanks for watching the kids.”

Jack echoed her sentiments, hugging Race and clapping Spot on the shoulder, closing the door behind them. 

Slowly, Spot turned to Race. “What did you say to her?”

“Not much. Just that I’d miss ya if she killed ya.” Race kissed his cheek, moving into the kitchen. “Wanna order in for dinner?”

“Yeah…” Spot followed him. He didn’t think that would’ve been enough, but anything that got rid of Katherine’s Death Stare was good enough for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments, concerns, and critiques welcome. Peace, love, and sanity!


	8. In Which Jack Kellys Collide

“You heard me. Take. It. Off.”

“What, ya don’t like the cowboy look, Ace?” Jack laughed, tipping up the brim of the black cowboy hat to look at her.

Katherine rolled her eyes. “It’s ridiculous. Where did you even find that monstrosity?”

“Ooh, big word, Miss Pulitzer," he teased, nudging her with his shoulder. "One’a the older Newsies left a few years back. Used ta let me borrow his Western books. S’where I first heard about Santa Fe.”

“What was his name?”

Jack tipped his head back, thinking. “Sullivan, I think? Been a while, I was only here a year or so ‘fore he left.”

“What happened to him?” Katherine asked, shifting the layers of her skirt.

He shrugged. “Went out West, last I heard. Livin’ the real cowboy life,” he said, gazing out across the rooftop. She didn’t miss the look in his eye, the one he still got when he thought about Santa Fe.

She’d stopped fearing he would actually up and leave her a while back. It was a dream he’d held on to when times were hard, when he needed hope of a better life than the one he got.

“Well,” Katherine moved closer to him, lifting the hat from his head, carefully untangling the string from his ear. “I’d say you have a mighty fine life here, Mr. Kelly,” she declared, perching his Newsie cap on his head, where it belonged.

Jack turned back to her with a smile, sliding an arm around her shoulders. “A mighty fine life,” he agreed, kissing her softly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments, concerns, and critiques welcome. Peace, love, and sanity!


	9. Proof Spot Conlon Has A Heart

“You’re the only one I trust to do this.” The intercom clicked off, leaving Race confused.

That was…odd. Spot— _Mr. Conlon_ , Race reminded himself—didn’t trust many people to do things for him, usually relying on his robots or JARVIS to handle it for him.

His dress shoes clicked against the floor as he made his way down to the workshop—

—where Spot— _Mr. Conlon_ —was reclining in what looked like a dentist’s chair, hooked up to a heart monitor.

Race would’ve been flustered at the sight of his boss shirtless if it weren’t for the circle of light and metal in the middle of his chest.

“Oh my god… Is that what’s keeping you alive?” Race asked, moving further into the room.

“Used ta be,” Spot said, wincing a bit as he shifted on the chair. “Now it’s ancient. This,” he held up a similar device in his hand. “Is what’ll be keepin’ me alive from now on. Which is why I need your help.”

“Me?” Race shook his head quickly. “‘M not qualified for somethin’ like that. I don’t wanna kill ya—“

“Ya won’t, I’ll walk ya through it.”

After sticking his hand in something Spot—he’d had his hand in the man’s chest, Race figured he’d earned the right to call ‘im that—assured him was not pus, slightly electrocuted Spot and nearly sent him into cardiac arrest, the new arc reactor was clicked into place.

Spot’s heart monitor wasn’t goin’ crazy anymore, but Race’s heart was still pounding.

“Never, _ever_ , ask me to do anything like that again,” Race begged.

There was an honest, slightly lost look in Spot’s eyes Race had never seen before, and he said, “I don’t have anyone but you.”

Ducking his head to avoid Sp—Mr. Conlon’s eye, Race picked up the old arc reactor gingerly. “What do you want me to do with this?”

Spot sighed, reaching for a hoodie draped on a nearby table. Pulling it on, he said “Just toss it. Ain’t worth anythin’ now.”

“Will that be all, Mr. Conlon?”

“That’ll be all, Mr. Higgins.”

A week later, the old reactor wound up back in his workshop, under a glass case with a little plaque that boldly proclaimed:

**PROOF SPOT CONLON HAS A HEART**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah, this is actually something I have in mind for a series later on, after I finish Heart on the Trigger and this other monstrosity of a fic I've been working on...
> 
> Super Newsies, anyone?
> 
> Comments, concerns, and critiques welcome. Peace, love, and sanity!


	10. Things You Said Under Your Breath

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cut piece from "Heart on the Trigger", Jack/Davey.

“I don’t like this,” Davey said, pacing the length of Katherine’s kitchen. 

“None’a us likes it, Davey. But Les is a smart kid, he’ll be fine,” Jack said, wincing as he shifted the sling around his neck. 

“Yeah, well, smart’s not gonna help him when one’a your new friends puts a bullet in his skull!” Davey insisted.

Jack shook his head. “They ain’t my friends! They’s—they’s _scum_ , an’ I hates that I even knows ‘em.”

There was a steely look in Davey’s eye, one Jack had never seen before. “So why do ya, Jack?”

“I—I had ta make a choice, Davey,” Jack said, leaning against the counter. “It wasn’t easy, wasn’t the best, but I hadta do what was best fer Racer.”

“A coward’s choice,” Davey muttered. 

Jack spun around. “What’d ya say?”

“I said you made a coward’s choice, Jack,” Davey said louder, straightening. “You’re a coward. Ya didn’t have ta get in with Paul Kelly, ya don’t have ta keep it a secret from us, we could’ve come up with a way ta keep both you and Racetrack safe. But instead, ya were impulsive, an’ ran. And that’s what cowards do, Jack. They run.”

They stared each other down for a long moment, Jack trying to come up with something to say.

But he had no response. It had been a cowardly thing ta do. He had no excuse for it.

The door to Katherine’s apartment clicked open, Crutchie and Les’s voices filtering in, and Jack heard Katherine cease the clattering of the typewriter keys as she stood up to greet them. Davey’s jaw clenched, and he turned on his heel to go see his brother. 

Scrubbing a hand down his face, Jack sighed loudly. He’d sure made a mess’a things, hadn’t he?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow me on tumblr @wordshakerofgallifrey for more Newsies nonsense, random writing pieces, and unnecessary thoughts I feel need sharing!
> 
> Comments, concerns, and critiques welcome. Peace, love, and sanity!


	11. Davey's Overreaction

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Vaguely set in the Write What You Know ‘verse. Literally no reference to it except Jack lives with the Jacobs and they have an old minivan.

“YOU DID WHAT?!”

“Davey, ya said ya wouldn’t get mad…” Jack said slowly.

“That was _before_ you said you took our thirteen year old brother driving!”

“I took ‘im in the van to the empty lot behind Medda’s theater, that’s not even really drivin’!”

Dave pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes. “What even made you think that was a good idea?”

“It was a present! An’ he’s a man now, or whatever, I thought he should learn something, y’know… grown up.” Jack rubbed the back of his neck. Now that he said it out loud, it did seem kinda dumb. 

Les had had his bar mitzvah the week before and, at a loss for gift ideas, Jack had promised him driving lessons. It had sounded good at the time. 

“I’m real good, Davey.” Les said quietly after a moment. 

Jack nodded quickly. “He really is. The kid was born to drive. Little trouble reachin’ the pedals, but shouldn’t be too much of a problem. You and Mayer are tall, Les’ll probably be too.”

Dave shook his head. It really wasn’t a big deal, he reasoned. He wish he’d been told, but Jack was responsible—mostly—around Les, anyways—and there weren’t cars around…

“I’m sure you were, Les.” He turned to Jack. “Sorry, that was… an overreaction.”

Jack waved him off. “Hey it’s okay. At thirteen I was learnin’ how to hot wire cars. It’s not a great age ta be makin’ good decisions.”

“How did you learn to do that?”

“My friend Race taught me.”

“Can he teach me?” Les asked, eagerly, eyes bright.

“ _No_ ,” Jack and Dave said together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments, concerns, and critiques welcome. Peace, love, and sanity!


	12. Don't Go

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ANGST.

“Please don’t do it,” Katherine said suddenly.

Jack looked up from his sketchbook, confused. “Do what? ‘M jus’ sketchin’.”

Tears blurred her vision, and Katherine didn’t bother to try and stop them. “Don’t go to France, don’t go to war. I can’t stand the thought of you over there, fighting, killing, being k—“ her voice cracked. “I can’t stand the thought of losing you,” she whispered.

“Hey, hey,” he moved over on the couch, gathering her in his arms. “Ace, where’s this comin’ from?”

“I just—” she scrubbed a hand under her eye in vain. “We’re taking you to the train station in the morning, and I don’t know how long you’ll be gone, and you work in the news, you know the stories from over there—”

Jack held her tighter. “I know, it don’t sound all too good, but I gots to, it’s my duty, my—my responsibil’ty—”

Katherine shook her head. “You have a responsibility here, you have me, and Peter—“

“‘Zactly.” He cut her off. “I gots somethin’ ta fight for. Look, Ace. I’m… scared ta death ‘bout goin’ over there. I ain’t a soldier. But I’m gonna go over there, do whatever duty the gov’ament thinks I need ta do, and I’m gonna come home.”

She fell into him, tears falling freely, and let him hold her through the night.

The next morning, Katherine and Peter traveled with Jack to the train station, where Crutchie, Mayer and Esther Jacobs, and the handful of Newsies who hadn’t been drafted yet were there to see him off.

She watched as the Newsies each said their goodbyes to Jack, as he hugged Esther and Mayer, who asked him to keep an eye out for Davey and Les, as he and Crutchie used overly light humor in their goodbyes.

Katherine was doing her best to hold it together when their seven year old son straightened his small shoulders and saluted his father, just like they'd taught him to do whenever he saw a soldier. She pressed her hand to her mouth as Jack stepped in front of her.

There was a fragile look in his eyes, and his jaw was clenched slightly to hold himself together. No one else would have noticed but her, and for some reason, that thought alone was enough to spill her tears.

“Don’t cry, Kath,” he whispered, cupping her face. “‘Cause if you’s cryin’, then ‘m gonna start, an’ ‘m gonna lose my tough guy rep in front’a all’a these guys.”

She choked on a laugh, covering his hand with hers. He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I will see you again,” he vowed.

And then he was on the train, whisked away from her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments, concerns, and critiques welcome. Peace, love, and sanity!


	13. Things You Said at 1 am

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jack/Crutchie/Davey nonsense
> 
> (I had this whole "every other day" thing going on, but I really love this drabble...)

“Ya ever think about… about how the universe is bigger than we know, and we’re just a speck of dust in a mass of whirling gal’xies that we can’t even ‘magine?”

“Oh, God, he’s getting existential again,” Dave groaned. “Jackie, how long’ve you been up?”

Jack looked up blearily from the canvas he’d been blankly staring at for the last two hours. “Time is it now?”

“One a.m., Jack,” Crutchie answered. 

Squinting, Jack slowly counted on his fingers, stopping and starting over three times before saying, “Thirty…one hours?”

“That a question or an answer, Jack?”

Taking far too long to focus on Crutchie, Jack said, “Dunno. What’d I say?”

“Okay,” Dave stood up, setting down the book he’d been reading. Jack had gone from grumpy-tired to finding-everything-funny tired to punch-drunk tired. “Let’s get’cha to bed, Jack.”

Giving him a lazy smile, Jack quipped, “Sorry, Davey, but you ain’t exactly my type.” 

Yep. Delirious.

Dave just rolled his eyes, pulling the palette and brush from Jack’s limp hands. 

In a delayed reaction, Jack jerked his hands in Dave’s general direction. “Hey! Gimme that back!”

“Nope,” Crutchie stood as well, using his free arm to pull Jack up by his elbow. “Time for bed, Jack.”

Jack turned to Crutchie abruptly, swaying with the movement. “What, you too? Whassup wit’ you two t’night? Am I that irresistible?”

It was Crutchie’s turn to roll his eyes. “Sure, Jack. If that helps you sleep.” 

They managed to steady Jack and began steering him to his bed. It shouldn’t have taken as much effort as it did, he’d only been sitting ten feet away from the bed, but Jack was mostly asleep on his feet, mumbling unintelligibly, dead weight to Crutchie and Dave.

But finally they got him sitting on the edge of his bed.

“Remember our… our ducks? Whatever happened to ‘em? I miss the ducks,” Jack said, having enough sense of mind to pull off his smock before flopping onto his side. A minute later, his breathing deepened, and Dave waved a hand in front of Jack’s face.

“He can’t remember how long he’s been up, but he remembers the ducks. Figures.”

Crutchie laughed, draping a blanket over Jack. “What was he even doin’ up for thirty-one hours?”

Dave sighed loudly, dropping onto his own bed. “He and Kath got in a fight the other day, don’t know what about. He won’t talk about it, and he’s been in front of that easel ever since.”

“Oh,” Crutchie nodded in understanding. “That makes sense. I saw Kath last night in the library, makin’ that angry face while she was typin’.” His face pinched worriedly. “They’ll be okay, right? Jack and Kath’rine?”

“‘Course,” Dave shrugged. “They’re always okay. They’re just too damn stubborn sometimes.”

“She’s th’ stubborn one…” Jack mumbled, before rolling to face the wall. It had taken Dave almost a month to get used to Jack’s sleep-talking. It had led to some rather interesting conversations that they definitely had footage of to be used as blackmail at a later date.

There was still a furrow in Crutchie’s brow. “Crutchie, they’ll be fine," Davey assured him. "Once Jack actually gets some sleep, he’ll remember he’s sometimes a rational human being and he an’ Kath’ll make up.”

Crutchie nodded slowly. They were quiet a moment, before Jack broke the silence.

“Th’ goat got’cha shoe, Specs, dunno what ta tell ya.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You've been very patient with my silly ducks headcanon, so it feels only right to inform you all that the ducks, in fact, have names, and they are Puddles, James Pond, and Quackie Chan.
> 
> (tumblr @wordshakerofgallifrey. Come say hi! I'm harmless, I promise...)
> 
> Comments, concerns, and critiques welcome. Peace, love, and sanity!


	14. Falling for You

“You fainted… straight into my arms. You know, if you wanted my attention, you didn’t have to go to such extremes,” Katherine teased. 

Jack felt the heat rise in his cheeks and pushed himself into an upright position. He was on the little couch in the main room of the Lodging House, which was suspiciously absent of other Newsies.

He didn’t remember much, just standin’ next to Katherine, when suddenly the room went kinda fuzzy ‘round the edges and his head felt like it was floatin’ away from his body.

“Sorry, Ace,” he muttered, embarrassed.

“Hey, it’s okay. I’m just glad Davey was there. You just about took me down with you,” she nudged him playfully. He managed a weak smile that she saw right through.

“Jack?” Katherine scooted closer to him, took one of his hands in both of hers. “What’s going on?”

“Nothin’, Ace.” She didn’t look like she believed him, and Jack sighed, twisting his hand to link his fingers with hers. “I just… I ain’t eaten in a few days.”

Katherine’s grip on his hand tightened, but her voice was steady. “How long is ‘a few days’?”

Jack pursed his lips, thinking back. “Today’s Friday? ‘Bout a week, I guess.”

She shook her head. “A… a week? You went a week without eating? Why, Jack?”

He shrugged, tracing an imaginary line on her hand with his thumb. “Couple’a guys mugged me last week, took what I had on me, and I ain’t had enough saved to get any food. Wasn’t a problem ‘til today.”

“Why don’t you have any money?”

“Some of it was used, helpin’ the boys with room money, and the rest… Well.” This ain’t how it was s’posed to go, but she was givin’ him that look that meant she wanted real answers, right now.

He extracted his hand to reach into his pocket to pull out the small object he’d been carryin’ around for just over a week. “It was spent on this.”

“Jack…” Katherine reached for the ring with shaky fingers, but he pulled it back, shaking his head.

“Nope, I’m in It this far, ‘m gonna do it right.” Jack slid off the couch, kneeling in front of Katherine. “Katherine Ethel Pulitzer…”

Suddenly he swayed again, catching himself with an arm against the couch.

Katherine reached out to grip his shoulders. “Oookay, how about we get you something to eat first, before you pass out again?” She helped him shakily stand. 

“It was gonna be real romantic, Ace,” Jack mumbled.

“I know,” she said placatingly. “But I didn’t want you to pass out before I had the chance to say yes.”

“But it was a yes?” he asked hopefully. 

Rolling her eyes slightly, she leaned into him carefully, kissing him. “Jack Kelly, it’s a _hell yes_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments, concerns, and critiques welcome. Peace, love, and sanity!


	15. Things You Said on the Phone at 4 am

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alternate title: "On the Grounds of Brooklyn"

Race buried his face in his pillow, groaning. _Who the hell is calling at four am?_  he thought grumpily, blindly groping for his phone. He’d gotten in less than four hours ago, they had to be up in another three, and he wanted to _sleep_ , dammit. 

A pillow hit his head just as his fingers closed around his phone. 

“Answer ya damn phone or ‘m throwin’ it off the balcony,” JoJo growled. 

Race threw the pillow back, unplugging his phone from the charger and stepping out on the balcony, accepting the call just before it went to voicemail.

“Spot, why’s ya callin’ me at four in the morning?”

“ _Shit, it’s four there? I forgot._ ” Race rubbed his eyes as he mentally counted. It was four here in California, so it’d be about seven in New York.  _“’m sorry, Racer, I’ll let’cha go back ta sleep.”_

“Nah, ‘m up now. Is everything okay? No one’s hurt, are they?” He couldn’t think of many reasons Spot would call him on his way to work.

_“Nah, everythin’s fine.”_

“Ya sure? You’re good? Jack an’ Kath? Rest’a New York’s still standin’?”

“ _Everyone’s fine. I just—I called ‘cause—_ ” Spot cleared his throat

“Spotttty….” Race drawled, switching the phone to the other ear, more awake now. “D’ya  _miss_  me?”

 _“You’ve been gone for a month and a half, ‘course I miss ya,”_  His voice was gruff, like it got when Spot thought his Brooklyn-tough-guy rep was being compromised. 

There was a burst of static over the line as Spot sighed.  _“How much longer ‘til you’re home?”_

“Mm… two weeks?” Spot groaned. “Why, do you object, Counselor?” Race teased.

_“Hell yeah, I object.”_

“On what grounds?”

_“On the grounds of Brooklyn. Where m’boyfriend’s s’posed to be.”_

“And he will be. In two weeks.” Race laughed as Spot groaned again. 

They talked for awhile, about Race’s tour, about Spot’s cases, about the pool the boys had about Jack and Kath’s third kid (Spot and Davey thought it was gonna be another boy; Race, Crutchie, and Jack thought girl. Kath had no knowledge of said bets). They talked so long that it wasn’t until Race let out a massive yawn that he remembered he was supposed to be sleeping. 

Spot laughed _. “Go to sleep, Racer. I’ll talk ta ya after rehearsal, okay?”_

“Mmhmm…” Race hummed, nodding lazily before remembering Spot couldn’t see him. 

_“Race, ya still there?”_

“’M here. I love ya, Spotty.” His words slurred together, and he wasn’t sure if Spot could even understand him. 

He did. Spot always did.  _“Love ya too, Race.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "I object, Your Honor"  
> "On what grounds?"  
> "On the grounds of Brooklyn"<<< literally my favorite exchange from the '92 movie (also "Remember that hot tip I told ya about?" "Yeah." "No one told the horse")
> 
> Come say hi to me on tumblr!! @wordshakerofgallifrey 
> 
> Comments, concerns, and critiques welcome. Peace, love, and sanity!


	16. Drabbles too Short to Have Their Own Chapter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes my drabbles are reaallllly short, and I always feel bad that they're not longer, but they're really just too short to be in their own chapter..
> 
> So have three mini drabbles!!

**“things you said when you were drunk” (Spot/Race)**

_“Spooootttttty! Spot, Spot, Spotty-Spot-Spot. That’s a funny name. ‘S like a dog’s name. We should get a dog and name it Spot. That would be funny. Why—Why d’we call ya Spot? Jack says it’s ‘cause you’s so small, you’s like a spot. Right Jack? That’s what ya said!”_

_(”Race, shaddup!”)_

_“Jack, stop, ‘s_ my _phone! Ya can’t take it from me!_

_You is kinda small, Spot. Tha’s’okay. You’s cute. I know ya don’t like bein’ called cute ‘cause it ruins ya tough guy rep, but yoooouuu’s cuuuuttte…_

_An’ I love ya. An’ ‘m gonna marry ya in a week. ‘M gonna marry ya so hard an’ ya’s gonna be m’husband an’ ‘s gonna be great._

_I LOVE SPOT CONLON AN’ HE’S CUTE AN’ ‘M GONNA MARRY—hey! Come say that ta my face, ya no-good, son-of-a—”_

There’s a fumbling noise, static crackling over the line, then Jack’s voice on the line.

_“Spot, ya fiancé’s a lightweight. An’ an idiot. An’ I didn’t say nothin’ ‘bout ya bein’ small.”_

The line clicked off and Spot looked at Race. “D’ya remember any of that?”

Race slowly shook his head. “’S’all a blur of tequila.”

 

*~*~*~*~*

 

“Just once?” 

Jack fidgeted nervously, tugging at the too-tight collar of his dress shirt, as ladies in elegant dresses spun around the room with men in stiff suits. “I dunno, Ace. This ain’t–isn’t–tha kinda dance I knows.”

Katherine tugged gently on his hands. She was used to Pulitzer-level parties, having grown up with them, even enjoyed them most of the time, but she knew Jack was still getting used to it. “Come on, it’s easy. Just step where I step.”

He nodded, only somewhat reluctantly, and allowed her to guide him on to the dance floor. She settled one of his hands on her waist, and grasped the other gently.

After a few unsteady steps, and only one instance of Jack stepping on her foot, they fell into a rhythm, Jack holding her closer as he grew more comfortable with the movement. Katherine smiled.

“See? Not too difficult, is it?” She used the swaying movement to rock closer to him, kissing the dimple in his cheek as he smiled.

“Nah, guess not,” he admitted. “An’, hey. Just’n time for the weddin’ too.”

 

*~*~*~*~*

 

 **"things you said in your vows" (Jack/Kath)** ("You Are My Sunshine")

“Oh, guess that’s my cue.

Kath, when I met ya, I was an angry, lost kid, who couldn’t fathom the idea of a family an’ couldn’t imagine bein’ anywhere near good ‘nuff for a girl like you. An’ now… Today I’m marryin’ ya.

I tried to come up with the right words to say up here, but you’ve always been the one good wit’ words, so I’ll do my best.

From this day forward, I promise ta love ya. No matter what happens, I’ll choose ta love ya.

Everythin’ could be goin’ exactly right, or we could be livin’ our worst nightmare. I’ll love ya.

We could be on the top of the world, the _king_  of New York, or we could be poor as dirt, an’ I’ll love ya.

Whatever happens, whatever changes, I’ll stay by your side, an’ I’ll love ya.

You’re the love of my life, my angel, the ace up my sleeve, an’ I’ll love ya ‘til my dyin’ breath.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Drunk Race is my new favorite thing....
> 
> Comments, concerns, and critiques welcome. Peace, love, and sanity!


	17. Things You Said When I Cried In Your Arms

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set in the "Write What You Know" 'verse, Kath and Jack's first year of college.

Katherine dragged an arm across her eyes, smearing the words that had been on her skin, hiccuping on a small sob. 

She couldn’t face Jack right now. Not after their last fight, after she’d cancelled their third Skype date and informed him, none too kindly, that _her_  future was what was important right now.

She didn’t tell him that it was her future with him she was working so hard to insure. No, instead she’d been a brat, and petulant, and hung up before he was able to say anything.

Then, as if the universe was punishing her for being cruel to her soulmate, Katherine had just been turned down for an internship, was likely failing the one class she thought would be a cinch, and her advisor had just informed her that there’d been a mix-up with her credits and she would have to retake a class.

And the one person who she turned to to talk about this stuff hated her. 

Well no, he didn’t, as made evident by the now-smudged _I’m sorry, I love you_ on her arm. It was his note that had pushed her over the edge.

The door to her dorm opened softly and Katherine didn’t turn from the wall. “Hannah, I really don’t want to talk.”

“Well, will ya talk ta me?”

Sitting up so fast her head spun, Katherine whipped around to the voice. “Jack! How’d you get in?”

“Your roommate unlocked the door for me. Whatsa matter?” He crossed the room to her, and Katherine pushed herself up on her knees to wrap her arms around his neck as soon as he was close enough. 

“Jack, I’m sorry.” Tears prickled at her eyes again, but she didn’t do anything to stop it. “I didn’t mean how it sounded. Of course my future’s important, but you’re in that future, too, and I love you and I’m sorry. It’s been a—long—week, but that no excuse, and—”

“Whoa! Slow down, Ace.” Jack pulled back to look her in the eye. He brought his hands up to her face, wiping away her tears with his thumbs,

“We knew it was gonna be hard. We’re in school in two different states, I’m workin’ most nights, you’re about to start the internship—”

Katherine shook her head, dropping back down on her bed, pulling at the sleeve of Jack’s hoodie so he’d sit with her. “No, actually, I don’t have the internship. Found out this morning.”

“Kath…” He stroked a hand down her back. 

“And I’m probably failing one class, and I’ll have to retake it with another class I _definitely_  don’t need to, and—” she sighed loudly. “I’m just so tired. And I miss you.”

“I’m here now.”

Katherine dropped her head to his shoulder with a slight smile. “You are. I’m glad you’re here.”

He wrapped an arm around her. “Kath, you’re prob’ly the smartest person I’ve ever met—”

“You’re my soulmate, you have no credibility,” she muttered, scrubbing a hand under her eye, catching the last stubborn tears that kept spilling over.

“—maybe so, but still. I live with Davey, I know what smart looks like. An’ you’re the best writer I’ve ever read. You’ll figure somethin’ out.” He pressed his lips to her hair. 

She turned her face into his shoulder, sighing. Jack shifted them on her bed so his back was against the wall and her legs were draped over his lap. 

Curling a hand in his shirt, Katherine breathed him in, something like coffee, and spices, and _Jack,_ andthe weight on her heart lifted. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments, concerns, and critiques welcome. Peace, love, and sanity!


	18. Happy Valentine's Day!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Basically all my Valentine's Day prompts, all put in one chapter for convenience 
> 
> (except my v angsty one. I got many demands to expand that one, and I'm still working on it... it will be posted separately)
> 
> Prompts: "Guess who just got dumped..."; "Okay, okay, we'll go out."; "This is the fanciest restaurant I've ever been to..."; and "Nothing say Happy Valentine's Day like morning sex."

The door to the apartment opened suddenly and Albert flopped face-first onto the couch. “Guess who just got dumped…”

He lay there, facedown, for a moment, waiting for Elmer to say something. When he didn’t, Albert looked up to see his roommate and best friend sitting with his back to him, headphones on.

Picking up a shoe by the couch, Albert chucked it at Elmer’s head.

Yelping as the shoe hit his head, Elmer turned to glare at Albert. “Dammit Al,” he said, pulling off his headphones. “What did I say about throwin’ things at me?”

Rolling over on his back, Albert moaned dramatically, “I’m wallowin’ here, an’ you weren’t payin’ attention.”

Elmer rolled his eyes. “What is it this time? One’a the dance parents? The barista forget the chocolate shavings on your whip cream? Or—”

“Steph broke up with me,” Albert cut in.

“—Stephanie broke up with you?” Elmer repeated. That definitely wasn’t what he’d expected. Honestly, he’d thought they’d be the next to get married, after Jack and Katherine and Spot and Race.

“Yup. At lunch today. Said we wanted diff’rent things. I dunno. I always thought we were on the same page.”

“Yikes,” Elmer winced in sympathy. “The day before Valentine’s too…”

Albert nodded, throwing an arm over his eyes. Elmer watched him a moment before standing and going over to the couch.

“Move your feet, Al,” he said, patting his roommate’s foot. Albert lifted his feet long enough to allow him to sit on the couch as well, before dropping them across Elmer’s lap.

“Nine months, Elmer. Almost a year,” Albert said, not moving his arm.

“I know, Al.” Elmer crossed his arms over Albert’s bent knees. “Whaddaya wanna do? Ya wanna talk about it? Ya wanna get drunk and forget? Eat ice cream and watch embarassin’ movies we never tell the guys about? Go to the pet store and play with the dogs? Your choice.”

Albert was quiet a moment, before peeking up at Elmer from under his arm. “Can we do, like, all’a that? ‘Cept the talkin’ part. I don’t wanna do that.”

“Alright.” Shoving Albert’s feet off his lap, Elmer stood. “I’ll get the ice cream and beer. You pick the movie.”

 

***

 

“Okay, okay, we’ll go out,” Jack finally relented, tugging Katherine towards the door. “But ya know where the formula is, right? An’ the emergency numbers are on the fridge—”

“We both have our phones,” Katherine added. “And if for some reason you can’t reach us, call the restaurant, they can get us—”

“—an’ really, don’t feel bad if ya gotta interrupt dinner, we’ll leave right away—”

“Oh, my god.” Davey cut him off. “Just _go_.”

Crutchie looked up from his spot on the couch, where he was holding Pete. “Jack, you an’ Kath haven’t had a night off since Pete was born. An’ it’s Valentine’s Day. Go out, have fun. Davey’s got all those cousins he’s taken care of, an’ I useta look after the kids in the group home, we got this.”

Jack’s shoulders relaxed a bit, but his face was still tight. Kath looked just as nervous.

Crutchie sighed, cradling the baby’s head. “I will let Davey lock ya out until ya have dinner.”

“And I will, don’t think I won’t,” Davey insisted. “Just make it ta the restaurant. That’s all we ask of you.”

Jack and Katherine exchanged a look, doing that silent-communication thing they had.

“I mean… it’s just dinner,” Jack said shrugging.

“Right. It’ll only take an hour, maybe less,” Katherine reasoned.

“Nope,” Davey said, discreetly pushing them towards the door. “You have to be gone at least an hour. And the twenty minutes you’ve spent stalling don’t count.”

“Okay, okay!” Katherine said, managing to duck under his arm. “Let me say goodbye to my son, David, and we’ll go.”

Dave stepped back to let Jack follow his wife, and Crutchie allowed Katherine to take Pete from his arms.

“Okay, Pete,” Katherine said, kissing his head. “We’ll be right back.”

“Be good for ya uncles, Petey,” Jack added, cradling his son’s head, kissing him as well.

“He’s not even two months old, how much trouble can he be?” Davey opened the door. “Okay. Go on. Eat. Celebrate Cupid’s birthday.”

Kissing her son’s head one last time, Katherine handed Pete back to Crutchie. “Let’s go before I change my mind, Jack.”

Taking her hand, Jack pulled her back towards the door. “Thank ya again for watchin’ him. We’ll be back in an hour.”

“Have fun you two,” Crutchie called after them as Davey closed the door behind them with a sigh.

“I didn’t think we’d ever get rid of them,” he said, sitting next to Crutchie on the couch. “Lemme hold him.”

“No, ya can hold ‘im later. Uncle Charlie’s got ‘im now.”

Out in the hallway, Jack looked at his wife. “You look gorgeous in that dress, Ace.”

“Thank you. You like quite dashing yourself.” After one last glance to their door, they began their walk down the hallway. “We can do an hour, right?” Katherine asked, a little uncertainly, as they walked to the elevator.

“We could walk real slow, an’ grab a hot dog from the vendor on the corner,” Jack offered. “Should kill an hour.”

She smiled, kissed his cheek. “Perfect. Happy Valentine’s, Jack.”

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Katherine.”

 

***

 

“This is the fanciest restaurant I’ve ever been to…” Jack joked.

Katherine shoved his shoulder, laughing. “Jack, this was _your_ idea.”

“An’ ya didn’t fight me too hard on it,” he reminded her, winking as he took a bite out of his hotdog, mustard dripping on his wrist.

They hadn’t wanted to go too far from home, as much as they trusted David and Crutchie, so they were maybe a block from their apartment, sitting on a bench in the park with sodas and hot dogs from a vendor.

“Remember our first Valentine’s?” he asked, licking the mustard from his arm. “ _That_ was a fancy restaurant.”

Their first Valentine’s was just under two months after they’d met. Jack had taken her to a nice Italian place, all cloth tablecloths and soft candlelight and real flowers on the table. It was the nicest place he’d ever set foot in.

“That was a good Valentine’s Day,” Katherine mused.

Jack choked a bit on his hot dog as he laughed. “My arm was still in a cast and we both ended up wit’ food poisonin’. That’s what’cha call a good date?” he asked when he could breath again. 

“Well,” she amended, rolling her eyes slightly. “ _Before_  the food poisoning part, it was really good. Nice restaurant, good food. Good ending, too,” she added with a smirk, nudging him. “You did pretty good for having only one arm, Cowboy.”

“Yeah, okay,” he said, chuckling. “It was a pretty good Valentine’s. Right up to the pukin’ an’ all—”

“And, we’re done with the hot dog,” Katherine said, grimacing slightly, rolling her hot dog back up in its wrapper. Laughing again, Jack wrapped an arm around her shoulders, dropping a kiss to the top of her head. 

“’Least we didn’t end up in the hospital. _Again_ ,” he joked. She settled into him, leaning her head on his shoulder.

“So,” he asked, idly tracing his fingers on her shoulder. “No regrets, givin’ your number ta some stranger in the waitin’ room of the ER?” Jack asked, only somewhat self-consciously. 

 _For God’s sake, man ya’ve gotta_ kid _with her, why are ya actin’ like you’re twenty-one still?_

She tilted her head to look at him, a fond look in her eyes. “Never,” she said softly, kissing him, wiping any traces of insecurity.

 

***

 

The bacon in the skillet sizzled and popped as Race pushed up the glasses sliding down his nose. The shower had shut off a few minutes ago, so he figured Spot would be joining him soon.

At the thought of his husband, Race grinned to himself, remembering that morning’s— _activities_ — and opened the cabinet and pulled down two coffee mugs.

As he set them on the counter, he heard their bedroom door open from down the hall and his husband make his way to the kitchen… Race cocked his head.

Was Spot _humming_?

A moment later, the man question turned the corner—and yep. That was definitely the song from their first dance at their wedding—freshly showered and dressed, his tie loose around his neck.

Race raised an eyebrow. “You’re in a good mood,” he teased, checking Spot with his hip as he moved past Racer to flip on the coffeemaker.

Smirking, Spot tugged Race’s shoulder down to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Had a pretty good wake-up call.”

Turning, Race took Spot’s tie in his hands, tying it as he asked, “Cheery attitude _and_ hummin’ this early in the mornin’? Who are ya an’ what’ve ya done with my husband?” Spot wasn’t a morning person, hadn’t been since they met in college, still wasn’t, even though he had to be up early to get to the firm or the courthouse.

Scoffing, Spot batted his hands away. “Wasn’t hummin’,” he muttered.

“Yeah, you were. An’ lookit that! You’re blushing…”

“Am not,” Spot said gruffly, turning away to flip on the coffeemaker.

Race poked his husband’s cheek with a grin. “Yeah you are. Don’t worry,” he said, kissing Spot’s— _very_ red—cheek. “It’s cute.”

“You’re sickenin’.”

“It’s Valentine’s Day. ‘M allowed ta be.” Race kissed his cheek again. “Look at that, you’ve even gotten into the holiday spirit,” he said, hooking a finger through Spot’s pink suspenders. Spotty only wore suspenders when he had to go to court with a real bigwig client. “Thought ya didn’t believe in Valentine’s Day.”

“Nothing says Happy Valentine’s Day like morning sex,” Spot, said, smirking again as he kissed Race.

“What’s sex?” a voice asked behind them, and Spot and Race’s eyes widened as they parted quickly.

They hadn’t heard Brooklyn get up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Cupid's birthday!! I hope your day is full of love!
> 
> Comments, concerns, and critiques welcome. Peace, LOVE, and sanity!


	19. Jack Gets Drunk (on Liquor, not Fame)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Drunk/Sloppy kiss with Jack and Kath

Honestly, this was the last place Katherine wanted to be.

Call her crazy, but Chili’s on a Friday night while her boss poorly parodied song after song wasn’t really her scene. 

Jack was the only one making it bearable, but he’d just left with his fiancee, before the waiter had even come by for their drink orders. He hadn’t seemed too happy about it, shooting Katherine an apologetic look as Maureen dragged him away. 

She couldn’t blame him for leaving, really. None of them _truly_  wanted to be there, and the last three years he’d won “Longest Engagement” which she knew bothered him, and—

“Hey.” Jack slid into the seat across from her.

Her eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Hey! You—are you okay?” Katherine asked, taking in his hunched figure, his white knuckles, his sudden interest in the grain of the wood table.

“Yeah, ‘m fine. Specs’ll drive me home.” He shot her an unconvincing smile as he pulled her beer towards him, taking a large gulp.

“That’s—yeah, okay.” She shot him a worried look, but allowed him to finish her beer.

***

Katherine winced as he slurped the dregs of his margarita through the straw, the noise loud and jarring. “Uhm, I think you finished that one, Jack,” she tried to say gently. 

Whatever had happened in the parking lot with Maureen had really shaken him. He’d downed her beer and chased it with two margaritas, the most she’d ever seen him drink. And he didn’t show signs of stopping.

Jack shook his head, glassy green eyes trying to focus on her. “No, ‘cause then—then the ice melts an’—an’ it’s like sec’nd drink!” His explanation was punctuated with another loud, long slurp.

“…Okay, Jack.” If he didn’t want to talk about, that was his decision. It was his hangover, and she or Specs would make sure he got home.

***

Half an hour later, the waiter had stopped serving Jack alcohol, so he was picking up empties off other tables and finishing them, and Katherine wanted nothing more than to find Maureen and knock some sense into her. 

Jack was talking too loud, his accent coming out full-force in between slurred words, and he was honest-to-God _giggling_. 

Jack Kelly did not _giggle_. 

“An’ I wanna thank God, ‘cause God gave me this Dundie. An’—an’ I feel God in this Chili’s t’night.” He nodded seriously, his whole body swaying with the movement, taking in the room before letting out a loud whoop.

Katherine laughed as he dropped the microphone and surprised their boss with a bear hug. In a unexpected—but not unwelcome—twist, Jack had been presented with “Most Colorful Shoes” for his ratty Converse he wore everywhere that were splattered with paint.

He turned to her, a broad grin splitting his face, and she held out her arms to hug him.

“Hey! Congrat—”

Jack cut her off, pressing his lips to hers—well, mostly. It was sloppy, him drunk, her in the middle of talking, and he mostly caught the corner of her mouth.

His lips were warm against hers and tasted salty from the last margarita he’d finished off.

She felt herself press back for half a second before remembering where they were and who was kissing her. Katherine jerked away, ready to apologize to Jack.

But Jack just grinned dopily at her, sitting heavily down at the table. Shakily, Katherine sat across from him, smiling slightly when he proudly showed off his trophy again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly I could've gone all day with the Newsies on the Office....
> 
> "You said we could bring our spouses."  
> "I did say that. Why didn't you, Spot?"  
> "I did."  
> "Well, I look forward to meeting her, where is she?"  
> *holds up Race's hand* "It's this person whose hand I'm holdin'."
> 
> Comments, concerns, and critiques welcome. Peace, love, and sanity!


	20. Can’t Sleep

The bed was too big.

Spot groaned, rolling over and covering his head with a pillow. He spent nineteen years sleeping alone before he even met Race, and another two before he shared a bed with him. 

He could sleep alone.

Except the bed was too big when Race was on tour. 

The door clicked open softly and Spot uncovered his head, sitting up. 

“‘Ey, sweetheart. What’cha doin’ up?”

Brooklyn held her stuffed bunny by the leg in one hand, rubbing her eyes with the other. “Can’t sleep,” she said.

Spot huffed a soft chuckle. “Wanna sleep in here tonight?”

In lieu of an answer, Brooklyn walked quickly into the room and launched herself into bed next to Spot, bouncing with the movement. 

Laughing, Spot helped her get under the covers, settling her on Race’s side. Hugging her bunny to her chest, Brooklyn lay on her side, looking up at him with wide, sleepy eyes. 

Spot slid an arm under his pillow, reaching with his other hand to brush back her hair. “Think ya can sleep now?” he asked. 

Brooklyn bit her lip, thinking, and then shook her head.

“Why not?”

Stretching her arm out to set her small hand over Spot’s, she asked, “When’s Papa getting home?”

Spot sighed softly. Flipping his hand over so that he held hers, Spot rubbed his thumb over the back of her hand. “‘Nother month.”

Brooklyn sighed loudly. “I miss Papa.”

“Me too, baby.” Craning his neck to look at the clock next to the bed, Spot considered the time. Race should be at the hotel now… “Wanna call ‘im?”

Sitting up, suddenly wide awake, Brooklyn bounced on her knees. “Can we?”

“‘Course. C’mere.”

Spot turned to switch on the lamp, unplugging his phone from its charger and sitting up so Brooklyn could climb in his lap. Opening up the FaceTime app, he called Race, positioning the phone so he and Brooklyn were both in the shot.

After a moment, Race picked up, his beaming, tired face filling the screen. He was clearly in the hotel after a show, showered and dressed in pajamas, his glasses practically sliding off his nose. 

“Hey! It’s pretty late there, what are you guys callin’ for?”

“Someone couldn’t sleep,” Spot answered, stroking a hand through Brooklyn’s hair. “She wanted to talk to her Papa.”

Waving at Race, Brooklyn said, “Hi Papa!” 

Race waved back. “Hey, sweetheart! How are ya?”

“‘M good.” Brooklyn curled a hand into Spot’s shirt, leaning further into him. “How’s your tour?”

“It’s been really good so far, but you know what?”

“What?”

Race leaned in close, like he was telling a secret. “I miss ya a whole bunch.”

Brooklyn grinned, showing off her new missing tooth. “I miss you too—Oh! Guess what, Papa?”

Widening his eyes a bit, Race leaned forward dramatically. “What?”

“On Saturday, I scored _two_  goals! And Daddy and Aunt Katherine got to see ‘em both, ‘cause they didn’t get thrown out!”

“No!” Race grinned, winking slyly at Spot. “They stayed through a _whole_ game?”

“Yeah!”

Chuckling, Spot leaned back against the headboard, content to watch his husband and daughter talk animatedly.

He never thought he’d be here, married, with a kid, and  _happy_ , happier than he thought he’d ever be, anyways.

Spot was a far cry from the scrawny Brooklyn street kid who got into too much trouble and used his fists more than his words. He wasn’t entirely sure how he got here, but he was thankful for it every day. 

Brooklyn’s words started coming out slow and slurred as her head nodded against Spot’s chest.

“I think it’s time for someone ta go ta bed,” Race said, a soft smile on his face.

Shaking her head, their daughter rubbed a hand at her eyes. “‘M _not_  sleepy,” she insisted.

“Ya know,” Spot spoke up finally. “If ya go ta bed, when ya wake up, it’ll be one day closer ta Papa comin’ home.”

“How many more days, Papa?”

“Twenty…nine days.”

Brooklyn sighed. “That’s a long time.”

“I know, sweetheart. But like ya Daddy said, if ya go ta sleep, when ya wake up, it’ll only be twenty-eight days. Then I’ll be home before ya know it. Think ya can do that?”

She nodded slowly. “Okay.”

Race reached a hand towards the screen. “Alright, then. G’night, Brooklyn.”

“‘Night, Papa,” Brooklyn said, blowing a kiss towards the phone. Spot set the phone down so he could shift Brooklyn off his lap and back under the covers. He rubbed a hand down her back, picking up the phone again.

“Hi,” he said softly. 

“Hi,” Race said back, just as quietly. “She’s gotten talkative.”

“Yeah, she’s been spending a lotta time wit’ Lucy, she’s startin’ ta rub off on her.”

Race shifted so he was lying on his side. “Yeah? She goin’ over there a lot?”

Nodding, Spot kept up the slow movement of his hand on Brooklyn’s back. “Jack’s been watchin’ her after school while I’m at work.”

His husband nodded slowly, eyes drifting shut a moment. “Mmm…” he hummed sleepily.

Spot shook his head. “Babe, you’re tired. I’ll talk ta ya tomorrow, ‘kay?”

“No ‘m not. ‘M awake,” Race insisted, his eyes still shut.

“You’re really not, Racer,” Spot laughed. “Tomorrow, before your show?”

Sighing, Race nodded, opening his eyes slightly. “Tomorrow. Love ya, Sean.”

“I love ya, too, Tony.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't written a lot with Spot, Race, and Brooklyn, but I wrote this and thought it was really cute, soo....
> 
> Happy Ides of March! May you not be stabbed 23 times on the Senate Floor!!
> 
> Comments, concerns, and critiques welcome. Peace, love, and sanity!


	21. Race Tries to Surprise His Husband. Spot Almost Decks Him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> follow up to last chapter, as requested by SomedayonBroadway-- Race comes home on break to surprise Spot and Brooklyn.

“Brooklyn, ya still back there?” Spot asked over his shoulder.

“Yes, Daddy,” her exasperated little voice said. He finally turned to look at her. She was hopping between only the white flowers on the carpet lining the hallway.

“Doin’ great, sweetheart,” he laughed.

Spot pulled out his keys to unlock the front door to their apartment, but found it ajar.

His hackles rose and he held out a hand to stop Brooklyn from barging in. “Jus’ a minute, sweetheart, let Daddy go in first, okay?”

Brooklyn froze at his tone and, stepping back a half-step, asked “What’s wrong, Daddy?”

“Prob’ly nothin’ baby, I jus’ wanna make sure.”

Slowly, he reached to push open the door, only for it to suddenly swing open in his face. Blindly, he reared his arm back to swing.

“Sorry! Sorry Spotty, don’t hit me, I forgot to close the door back, I didn’t mean to scare you!” Race’s words came out in a rush.

_Race?_

Brooklyn recovered first, coming out from behind Spot, squealing “Papa!” as she threw herself at him. “You’re home!”

“I am!” He scooped her up in a hug, spinning her around. “Wait, wait, there’s something different here.” He put her down and tapped a finger to his chin studying her.

Having confirmed that it was his husband, and not an intruder in the house, Spot smirked, stepping in and closing the front door, watching the two of them.

Laying a hand flat on her head, he asked “Didja grow another foot while I was gone?”

Brooklyn giggled. “ _No_ , Papa!”

“Really? Are ya sure you’re not drivin’?”

“ _Papa_ , I’m only seven!”

“Well _somethin’s_ different…” Squatting in front of their daughter, Race studied her.

Brooklyn grinned, sticking her tongue through the gap between her teeth. Race gasped.

“Ya lost another tooth!” Brooklyn nodded. “Well, ya know what that means, right?”

“What?”

“We gotta celebrate! How ‘bout… Chinese for dinner?”

Brooklyn lit up. “Yes! Chinese for dinner!”

Race clapped his hands together. “Great! Got put’cha backpack away, an’ we’ll see ‘bout gettin’ ya some Chinese, alright?”

Throwing her arms once more around Race, Brooklyn turned on her heel and tore down the hallway to her room, singing under her breath about “Chinese for dinner”.

Straightening, Race turned a little sheepishly towards Spot, who’d been quiet the whole exchange. Half-raising his arms, as if for a hug, he said, “Hi, honey. I’m home?”

Pushing himself off the wall, Spot stalked towards Race, knocking his arms away and shoving him lightly. “That’s for scarin’ me, jackass.” Then, fisting a hand in Race’s shirt, he pulled him back, kissing him until they were both breathless. Spot pulled away just enough to say, “Why are ya home? Thought ya had ‘nother three weeks.”

Leaning back a little, Race shrugged and said, “Well, ya know. There was someone back here I was missin’ too much ta wait ‘nother three weeks, ‘specially since it’s been almost four months since I saw ‘em.”

Spot smirked. “Ya talkin’ ‘bout Brooklyn?”

“‘Course,” Race winked and kissed him again.

Suddenly the girl in question came running back into the living room, sliding in her socks. “ _Daddy_ , quit kissin’ Papa. You’re just like Uncle Jack and Aunt Kathy.”

“Wow,” Spot said, pulling away from Race. “Haven’t heard that one since college.”

Race checked him with his hip, turning to their daughter. “Nope, the little lady is right. We promised her Chinese, not kissin’, right, Brooklyn?”

“Right!” Latching onto Race’s hand and allowing him to pull her into the kitchen, sliding on her socks, Brooklyn asked, “Are you home for good, Papa?”

Lifting her on the counter and digging through the drawer with the takeout menus, Race hesitated a moment before saying, “No, honey, ‘m not. I just gotta couple’a days off so my ankle can get better.”

Spot frowned as he followed them into the kitchen, eyes darting down to Race’s feet. Race was always a little _too_ cavalier when it came to dance injuries, choosing to push through. Him actually listening to the trainer and taking the time off made Spot wonder he was worse of than he let on.

“…So I’ll be here when ya wake up an’ ta take ya ta school, an’ _maybe_ when ya get home, but I’ll hafta fly back ‘fore ya go ta bed tomorrow,” Race finished, leaning on the counter next to their daughter.

Pouting her lower lip out, Brooklyn stopped kicking her feet against the cabinets. “Oh.”

“Or…”  Two pairs of blue eyes turned to Spot, who shrugged. “What if tomorrow, I take off from work, an’ you stay home wit’ me an’ Papa? Ya wanna do that, Brooklyn?”

Perking up, Brooklyn exclaimed, “Yes!”

“Great!” He helped her off the counter. “Go find a movie for us ta watch, alright?”

Brooklyn raced out of the kitchen.

“Ya ankle alright, Racer?” he asked, pulling out his phone to send an email to his boss.

“S’fine. Just need a day or two’a rest. Should be good as new.” Spot raised an eyebrow. Race rolled his eyes. “Really, Spotty. It’s not a big deal.”

“Would tell me if it was?”

Race drew and “X” over his heart with his finger. “Cross my heart, baby.”

“Alright…” Spot drawled. “We’ll stay in tomorrow, though, ‘til we gotta take ya ta the airport.”

“Sounds good.” Race grinned at him and turned to open the fridge, but before he could, Spot’s arms wrapped around his waist from behind, and he felt Spot’s head settle between his shoulder blades. Laughing, he dropped his hands to rest on his forearms.

“You’re feelin’ affectionate tonight, hm?”

“No ‘m not.” A soft kiss pressed to his back that Race felt through his shirt contradicted Spot’s grumbled words. “‘M just glad ya home, s’all.”

Twisting in his arms, Race wrapped an arm around Spot’s shoulders. “Me too.”

They stood there a moment, just holding each other, food momentarily forgotten, until Brooklyn broke them out of their spell, demanding both Chinese and cuddles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments, concerns, and critiques welcome. Peace, love, and sanity!


	22. Sleepy Kiss

Katherine was in that pleasant, hazy, in-between state of being awake and asleep when she felt something warm settle on her shoulder. She nuzzled closer to it, unwilling to open her eyes just yet.

“Mm,” her husband hummed, pressing his lips to her collarbone. “Mornin’.”

She shook her head lazily. “Nope. ‘S’not morning ‘til I open my eyes.”

“Mmm…” Jack’s lips trailed up her neck, his head lifting off her shoulder as he did.

At that, her eyes slitted open, peering at him blearily. She’d barely registered that he was hovering over her before his mouth was covering hers and her eyes drifted shut again.

His arm slid under her neck, fingers burying in her hair, and her hand curled in his shirt, pulling him closer as they kissed languidly. Katherine held his other hand over the bump in her stomach.

He took her lower lip between his, and she sighed softly, her head lifting slightly off the pillow, still not willing to leave the warmth of their bed.

Little feet pounded against the floor, breaking the spell, and Katherine dropped her head back on her pillow, laughing a little breathlessly.

Pressing his forehead to her shoulder, Jack chuckled as well. “Well, don’t matter if ya eyes are open or not now. The boys decide we’re up.” 

Finally opening her eyes, Katherine was met with their two young sons bounding into their room, Pete climbing on before tugging Corey up with him. 

“Mama, Mama, Mama,” Corey babbled, falling into her, hands bracing on her stomach. “‘S’a baby in ya belly,” he said seriously.

“That’s right,” Jack said, scooping up Pete in one arm. “‘S’why we gotta be careful wit’ Mama’s belly, right boys?”

Both boys nodded, eyes wide and earnest. Then Pete tilted his head back to look up at Jack. “Daddy. How’d the baby get in Mama’s belly?”

 _Now_ Katherine was awake. She sat up, holding Corey as close as she could.

Jack cut a glance to her, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh, no, Cowboy. I’m carrying the baby. You get to handle this one.”

To his credit, Jack recovered quickly. “Why ya worryin’ ‘bout Mama’s belly, when ya should be worried ‘bout… _this_ belly?!” he crowed, lifting Pete’s shirt to blow a raspberry on his small stomach.

Squealing, Pete twisted away, trying to crawl away from Jack. Never one to be left out, Corey fell out of Katherine’s lap, eager to join his brother and daddy.

Sitting back against the headboard, she settled her hands over her stomach, and watched her boys.

 _This_ was worth waking up to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments, conerns, and critiques welcome. Peace, love, and sanity!


	23. Forbidden Kiss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thursday night kiss with Spot and Race.

“Read ‘em an’ weep, Conlon,” Race smirked as he laid his cards down.

With a grunt of dismay, Spot threw down his cards. “How’d ya get so good at cards, Higgins?” he asked, taking a swig of his beer.

“Where d’ya think? From playin’ you an’ Hotshot ev’ry Thursday night fer tha last year an’a half.” Race snatched the bottle from Spot, taking his own gulp.

“Get’cha own beer, Racer,” Spot said, grabbing the bottle back, moving away from their makeshift table to sit on the sill of the open window. “An’ if ya keeps takin’ my money like that, pal, an’ ya can find another poker game ta bum ‘round.”

Race rolled his eyes. “Yeah, like ya’d let me go that eas’ly.” He stood and stretched.

Slowly, Spot set down the now-empty beer bottle. “Ya leavin’ fer Manhattan, now?” He tried not ta sound too upset ‘bout that. It was gettin’ late an’ he knew Race was up early wit’ Jack ta make sure their boys were up an’ ready ta sell.

But he wasn’t ready ta say goodnight. 

Race surprised him by sittin’ next ta him by the window. “Nah, Jack knows  ‘m here. ‘S’long as ‘m there by the time they puts up tha headline, he’ll be fine.”

Spot narrowed his eyes a bit, but couldn’t bring himself to be disappointed. He felt his smirk fade into somethin’ different, somethin’ softer.

Unfortunately, Racer saw it too. “Why’s you lookin’ at me funny?”

Spot tried to school his features. “‘M not,” he muttered.

“Ya was.”

“Keep pushin’, Higgins, I’ll throws ya off the fire escape.” It was an empty threat an’ they knew it. Spot told Race he’d throw ‘im off one building or another at least twice a week.

Race rolled his eyes, knocking Spot’s shoulder with his. Without thinking, Spot lifted his hand to hold Race there, leaning into him slightly.

Spot knew how they looked, an’ knew it weren’t right for ‘em to. Guys who… felt like that towards other guys didn’t make it in Brooklyn. Didn’t make it nowhere. 

But tonight… It was like everythin’ disappeared, an’ it was just him, Racer, and tha moon, an’ Spot felt warm, inside an’ out. He wondered if this was how Jackie felt, bein’ ‘round Kath. Wondered what’d it’d be like if it was okay to feel like this.

“Spotty?” Race looked worried, but hadn’t moved. Spot wasn’t one’a those guys who thought things was “pretty” or nothin’, but in the moonlight, Race was the most beautiful thing he’d seen. 

An’ he thought,  _Ta hell wit’ it._

Hesitantly, Spot pressed his lips to Racer’s. He heard Race inhale sharply, before pressing back firmly. The hand on Race’s shoulder slid to his neck, pulling him closer and the other fisted in the front of his worn shirt as Spot kissed him deeper.

His mouth was warm an’ movin’ ‘gainst Spot’s all soft, an’ his hands was in his hair, an’, an’, an’—

An’ they couldn’t be doin’ this.

Breaking away from Race, Spot shook his head quickly, tryin’ not to look at Race, with his eyes wide an’ his chest heavin’ an’ his lips—

_C’mon Conlon. Get’cha self t’gether._

“Spotty—?”

“We—can’t.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments, concerns, and critiques welcome. Peace, love, and sanity!


	24. Zombie Ants and Snail Slime

Katherine took a sip of her lukewarm coffee, grimacing slightly as she adjusted her reading glasses, squinting at her computer screen. She tried not to bring work home with her, but there was that odd weekend she couldn’t find a way around it.

Standing to dump her coffee in sink and get a new cup, she leaned against the counter, slightly unnerved by the stillness of the apartment. Ever since she’d met Jack, her life had been filled with noise, between him and the boys, and now their three kids. She wasn’t used to it being quiet.

Lucy was at Sean and Tony’s, spending the weekend with Brooklyn, and Jack had gone with Corey on an overnight field trip, so it was just her and Pete today. 

As if on cue, her oldest son rounded the corner, eyes already bright, ready to take on the day. Their boy was a deep sleeper like her, but was such an early bird like Jack.

“Morning, Pete,” Katherine said, picking up her fresh coffee and dropping a kiss on top of his head.

Wrinkling his nose at that, Pete climbed in a chair at the table. “Mornin’. Do we have cereal?”

“I think so.” She opened the pantry, confirming they, indeed, had cereal. “Frosted Flakes or Cheerios, bud?”

“Cheerios.”

Katherine set the box in front of him, along with a bowl, and Pete went to get the milk. As he poured his cereal, he suddenly perked up. “Mom! Have you heard of Zombie Ants?”

“Zombie Ants?” Katherine asked, sitting across from him with her coffee, sliding her glasses off her nose and setting them aside. He nodded, practically vibrating. “Can’t say I have. Tell me about these Zombie Ants.”

“So, there’s these parasites called… uhm… liver fluke! An’ they live inside ant’s brains and control them.” Pete paused a moment to shovel a spoonful of cereal in his mouth.

“And that makes them zombies?” Katherine asked.

Pete shook his head. “ _Mom_ , that’s not all,” he said exasperatedly.

Raising her hands, she gestured for him to continue. 

He narrowed his eyes at her a moment, making sure she was listening before continuing. “An’ they make the ants crawl onto grass so that rabbits eat them. And the parasite grows in the rabbit, and releases a whole bunch’a eggs through the rabbit’s _poop._ ” Pete cackled gleefully.

Hiding her smile behind her coffee mug, Katherine asked, “And what happens to the eggs?”

“Snails eat ‘em!”

“ _Snails_?”

“Yeah!” Pete said, dropping his spoon, leaning forward on the table, in full explanation mode. “But the snails don’t like the eggs in their stomach, so they cover ‘em in _snot_  and cough ‘em up! And then guess what happens?”

Katherine set down her mug, mimicking his stance, bracing her arms against the table as well. “What?”

“Ant’s favorite food is snail snot!” Pete’s nose wrinkled, even as he grinned. “So they eat the snot with the eggs inside, and it starts _all over_ again!” Satisfied now that he was done explaining, he picked up his spoon to finish his cereal.

She sat back in her chair, watching him. Her kids never failed to amaze her. Shaking her head in amusement, she asked. “Now, just where did you learn something like that?” 

Pete grinned, tipping his chair back on two legs, letting them land with a solid _thud_  when she gave him a disapproving look. “School.”

Reaching across the table, she cupped his chin briefly with a smile. “You’re getting too smart for me, Pete. Before I know it, you’re going to be _old,_ ” she teased.

Something glinted in his eyes, and Pete looked down out her coffee cup. “Am I old enough to have coffee?”

“Aw, honey…” Katherine reached across the table again, patting his hand. “No.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m not one to find science too interesting (I’m just more of a humanities person, not STEM) but I always thought Pete would be a little Science Nerd and at ten, he would LOVE this science fact. 
> 
> (and there’s always room for more Pete Kelly love in the world)
> 
> Comments, concerns, and critiques welcome. Peace, love, and sanity!


	25. Three Sentence Fic Part 2

**Jack and Kath, Monstrosity 'verse**

“So… about the _Titanic_ …”

“Admittedly, that was not one of my proudest moments, but the door—”

“Oh, I was talkin’ ‘bout how they got Leo DiCaprio to play me in the movie, but _now that ya mention it,_ there was def’nitely room for both’a us!”

 

***

 

**Jack and Kath, summer camp**

A bright light illuminated the canoe dock, causing the two figures to jump apart, hurriedly straightening clothing and smoothing down their hair.

Squinting, Jack held up a hand against the light and said, “Davey, put down the light, it’s us!”

Lowering the flashlight, Davey rolled his eyes at Jack and Katherine and said, “Aw, c’mon you two—you’re supposed to be _setting an example_ for the campers!”

 

***

 

**Jack and Kath, Kelly Kids 'verse**

“I knew this day would come, I just—didn’t expect it to be so soon…” Jack said (a bit dramatically, if Katherine had any say).

Rolling her eyes, she patted her husband’s shoulder consolingly, saying, “Jack, she’s seven—a ‘date’ for her is sitting next to each other during reading time and sharing her brownie at lunch.”

“I _know…_ ” Jack groaned, dropping his head on the table, mumbling, “But she still called it a _date_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments, concerns, and critiques welcome. Peace, love, and sanity!


	26. I Almost Lost You Kiss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> set in the "Found You" 'verse, in that Race is a bike messenger.

Closing the door, Spot’s eyebrows drew together. “Whassup, Kathy? The partners don’t ‘zactly like it when I leave meetings with clients.”

Katherine’s eyes were wide, looked fragile almost, like she was holding herself together.

“Hey, ya okay? ‘S’it Jackie? Ya want me ta knock some sense inta him—”

“It’s—it’s Race,” she interrupted, her voice cracking a bit. “Someone… hit him, on his route.”

It was like the ground disappeared under his feet, an’ the room started spinnin’, an’ Spot couldn’t see anythin’ in front of him. 

“Wh–Race? H-How… what?” Words, he was s’posed to be good with words, that’s why they hired him, that’s why he became a lawyer—lawyer, law school, Race convinced him to go to law school in the first place, Racer, Tony, _Anthony_.

“Sean.” Katherine gripped his shoulders, ducking her head to look him in the eye. “He’s _fine_. He’s in the hospital, but he’s fine. Jack’s downstairs with the car. We can take you there now.”

Shakily, he brought his hands up to grip her arms, grounding himself a moment. “Yeah, lemme just—gotta get m’stuff.” 

She waited outside the conference room while he went back in, mumbling some half-assed excuse about a family emergency and rescheduling with the secretary.

Spot didn’t really remember the actual act of grabbing his cellphone and briefcase—the one Race bought him after law school—and getting in the back of Jack’s car, or even arriving at the hospital, but suddenly, the three of them were standin’ outside a room an’ a doctor was talkin’ to them.

He didn’t hear too much of what she told them about Racer’s injuries—he felt himself flinch, though, at _broken leg_  and _cracked ribs_  and _chest tube_ —but snapped back to reality when she said, “He’s asleep, but you can go see him now.”

Spot didn’t wait for Jack or Kath—he’d make it up to them later, for everythin’ they’d done for him today—he just pushed his way past the doctor, falling through the door.

_Oh god, Tony…_

Race looked too small, lyin’ in the hospital bed, his leg in a big, white cast, propped up on a pillow, tubes and wires criss-crossing his body, the heart monitor beeping softly. And his chest—

Suddenly, the room was too small, an’ there wasn’t enough air. He was suffocating, he couldn’t breathe.

Growling slightly, Spot tore at the buttons on his cuffs, yanking the suspenders off his shoulders, and practically ripping the dress shirt off, crumpling it in his fist, and leaving him in his plain undershirt.

Tossing the shirt in the chair next to the bed, he slowly approached the bed, taking in the scrapes and bruises on Race’s face and arms.

Gently—more gently than even he thought possible—Spot cupped his face, leaning down and brushing his lips against Race’s, feather-light.

Bringing his head up, Spot kissed Race’s forehead, just as softly, before carefully climbing into the bed next to him, mindful of his ribs and the too-many wires and tubes.

Laying his head on Race’s shoulder, Spot turned his head into his fiancé’s neck. Underneath the antiseptic and hospital smell, there was coffee an’ sweat an’  _Race_  and tears prickled in the back of Spot’s eyes.

“God, baby. I coulda lost ya,” he whispered hoarsely. “I can’t lose ya, Tony. I can’t.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Race, of course, recovers fully, and is up and annoying the nurses and Spot in no time. ;)
> 
> Comments, concerns, and critiques welcome. Peace, love, and sanity!


	27. Doesn't Mean Shit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so this is set in Found You, a couple of years after Jack and Crutchie go to live with the Jacobs, so Jack and Davey are about 15/16 here… also, sidenote, this is before Esther and Mayer get Jack help.

Jack was acting weird.

Which wasn’t too unusual, except he was acting even more weird. He was sullen and snappy, spending all his time out on the fire escape, picking fights with anyone who so much as gave him a dirty look.

And now he was angrily scribbling in his notebook, letting out a frustrated noise and throwing it at the wall opposite his bed.  

“Okay, what’s going on?” Davey asked, dropping his pencil and notebook on the ground next to him.

“Nothin’,” Jack growled, scowling at his shoes.

“Ya wanna talk about it?”

“No.”

Davey shook his head. “Jack, I’ve lived with you for two years. Clearly something’s wrong, or—” _Whump!_ “—or ya wouldn’t be throwing stuff at me,” he muttered.

Standing from his bed, Jack kicked his backpack out of the way as he went to pick up the discarded notebook, throwing it back on his bed. “Only thing buggin’ me is you, Davey. Leave me alone.”

Standing up, still holding the pillow Jack had thrown at him, Dave followed him. “Look, Jack, I’m just gonna keep bugging you until you tell me, so you might as well—”

“Fine! Some asshole in homeroom said we’re not brothers an’ I haven’t gotten that outta my head. Ya happy?” Jack’s eyes flashed a second before darting away.

Floundering a moment, all Davey could come up with to say was “Did you _say_ we were brothers?”

Swiping a hand down his face, Jack shook his head. “Yeah, maybe I slipped up, an’ I called ya my brother an’ it’s stupid—”

“No, Jack, it’s not stupid—”

“—It is! We’re not brothers. It just came out, an’ I said ‘m’brother, Davey’—”

“—that’s fine, Jack, there’s nothing to be embarrassed about—”

“—‘M _not_ embarrassed, just–just– _mad_ ‘bout what he said—”

“I don’t care what they said, it doesn’t mean shit!” Davey exclaimed loudly, interrupting him.

The two stared at each other a moment before Jack snorted a loud laugh.

“What?” Davey asked warily.

Jack sat down heavily on Davey’s bed, still smirking. “Nothin’, just… _Davey Jacobs,_ sayin’ ‘shit’? Didn’t think ya had it in ya.”

Davey smacked him with a pillow and sat next to him. “Jackass,” he muttered.

“Shit _and_ jackass?” Jack laughed. “Who are ya an’ what’d ya do ta Davey?”

He ducked as Davey smacked him with the pillow again, catching it and yanking it from him.

The tension in the room had lifted considerably, but Davey still felt like he needed to say something reassuring, because for all his gruffness, he knew Jack still needed the confirmation, an absolute statement of his role here. 

“You are though,” he said. Jack looked at him, confused. “My brother,” Davey added. “Genetics don’t change that, last names don’t change that. You’re my brother, plain and simple.”

Jack was quiet a moment before knocking Dave with his shoulder. “Shaddup,” he groused, but a small smile crossed his face.

Davey pushed him back, as Sarah poked her head in the bedroom.

“Guys, come on. It’s almost suppertime, and it’s your turn to set the table,” she said.

“Yeah, we’re comin’, Sarah.” Jack stood, stretching, Davey following suit as Sarah closed the door once more. 

“Hey, uh, Jack?” He turned to look at Davey, who fidgeted slightly, “Don’t—could you maybe not—tell Mom and Dad…”

“Oh my _god_ , Davey,” Jack laughed, shoving him. “Grow up, man.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments, concerns, and critiques welcome. Peace, love, and sanity!


	28. Spot Conlon Doesn't Get Sick (Except He Totally Does)

Race woke up to hear Spot coughing, a harsh, hacking noise that shook him out of his dream. 

Sitting up and rubbing his eyes blearily, he reached for his glasses on the nightstand. “Spot. What’re ya doin’?”

“Gettin’ ready for work, whaddaya think?” Spot muttered, his voice raspy as he turned to Race. His face was flushed, his eyes had a glassy look to them, and his hands were shaking around the buttons on his shirt.

Eyes widening slightly, Race threw back the comforter, jumping out of bed. “Uhm, no ya not, Spotty. You’re sick.”

“No, ‘m not,” Spot muttered, still struggling with his shirt, stopping as another cough racked his body.

Race waited until he was breathing normally again before cupping Spot’s flushed cheeks and pressing a kiss to his forehead. “Baby, ya burnin’ up.”

Spot gave him a weak smirk. “We both know ‘m hot, Race.”

Rolling his eyes, Race said, “Ya got a _fever_ , Sean. C’mon. Back ta bed.”

Swatting at Race’s chest weakly, Spot tried to push him away. “Ya treatin’ me like a kid, Tony. Knock it off.”

“Not treatin’ ya like a kid—”

“Ya not?” Spot rolled his eyes, stepping back to button his shirt again. “Ya do the same thing ta Brooklyn when she’s sick. An’ she’s _seven_.”

“Well you’re actin’ seven, so it works tha same way.” Race gripped his husband’s shoulders. “Sean. Ya sick. Stay home, sleep. We can watch those garbage gas station movies ya love ta hate.”

“Racer, ‘m not—”

“Yeah, ya are,” Race gently steered him back towards the bed. “An’ it’s okay. Ya can be sick ev’ry once’n awhile. Even big, bad Spot Conlon. Now get outta ya work clothes. I’ll get Brooklyn ready for school.”

Before Spot could try and argue, Race was already out the door.

Spot groaned, pulling off his button-down, leaving him in his plain white undershirt. He was burning up just a minute ago, but now he was freezing.

Opening a dresser drawer, Spot pulled out one of Race’s hoodies. It was old, faded, and, most importantly, _warm._  Stripping off his undershirt, he tugged the hoodie on over his head and flopped backwards on the bed, draping an arm over his eyes.

He must’ve dozed off, because the next thing he knew, the door to their room was opening softly. 

“Daddy?”

Peeking an eye out from under his arm, Spot blearily made out Brooklyn standing next to the bed, dressed for school and holding her stuffed bunny. He pushed himself up on his elbows, attempting a smile. “‘Ay, sweetheart. Papa got ya ready ta go?”

She nodded, letting go of her bunny with one hand to fix the flower headband perched on her head. “Mm-hmm. He’s takin’ me to school today, ‘cause he said you don’t feel good.”

“Ah, Daddy’s gonna be fine. Papa worries too much.”

“Here,” Brooklyn said, dropping her stuffed bunny on his stomach. “Coney makes me feel better when I’m sad. Maybe he’ll make you feel better too.”

Sitting up the rest of the way, and hugging the stuffed toy to his stomach, Spot smiled as he pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “‘M feeling’ better already. Thank ya, Brookie.”

A grin split her face and she wrapped her arms around his neck. Race poked his head in the door, changed out of his pajamas now, probably when Spot fell asleep again. “Ya ready ta go ta school, Brooklyn?”

Nodding and pulling away from Spot, Brooklyn skipped over to Race, waving back to Spot. “‘Bye, Daddy!”

“See ya after school, sweethear—” Spot was cut off by another coughing fit, burying his face in his elbow. “Sweetheart,” he rasped when he was finished. 

“Alright, Miss Brooklyn, go get’cha backpack while I say goodbye ta Daddy, okay?”

Calling another goodbye over her shoulder, Brooklyn ran into the living room.

Sitting next to him on the bed, Race asked, “There anythin’ ya want me ta bring ya ta make ya feel better?”

Shaking his head and folding his arms over his stomach—while warm, Race’s hoodies were too short on Spot, leaving a strip of his stomach exposed—Spot said, “Race, ‘m _fine_.”

“Okay…” Race said, disbelieving. Standing and pressing a kiss to Spot’s forehead, he scooped his keys and phone off the dresser on his way out.

Setting Brooklyn’s bunny aside, Spot hesitated as he flipped his pillow over to get the cool side. “Tony…?”

Stopping at the door, Race turned with a slight knowing look in his eye. “Yes, Sean?”

“Can—can ya bring me somethin’ from Jacobi’s?”

“Yes, Sean,” Race said, smiling and turning to leave. “Love you.”

Dropping his head on his pillow, Spot mumbled a “love ya too” into the pillowcase and closed his eyes. 

He _wasn’t_  sick. But if stayin’ home an’ asking his husband to bring him some soup made Race feel better, Spot could indulge him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Product of a months-old discussion between me and Grace about how Spot would react to being sick.
> 
> Just give me soft Sprace always please XD
> 
> Comments, concerns, and critiques welcome. Peace, love and sanity!


	29. Superhero Baby Bat Duck

Jack leaned back in his chair, stretching his arms over his head, glancing at the clock as he did.

All three kids were down for a nap, going down surprisingly easily today, Kath was at work for a half-day, and he’d managed to finish two projects.

Picking up the baby monitor, he made his way into the kitchen. The boys wouldn’t sleep too much longer, probably, and Lucy was a better sleeper than either of them, even at only a year old, so he had a little time to get something to eat.

Tossing an orange in his hand, Jack hopped up on the counter to peel it, leaning back against the counters. Popping a slice in his mouth, he turned his head as he heard feet padding down the hallway. 

Corey entered the kitchen with a bright red towel tied under his chin, Pete’s Batman mask balanced precariously on his head, wearing only his ducky-print pajama bottoms (he _had_ to change into pajamas before nap time).

Making a beeline for the fridge, Corey didn’t notice Jack until he said, “Hey, buddy. What’cha wearin’?”

Spinning on his heel, Corey wrapped himself up in his cape, teetering a moment before he caught his balance. “Daddy!” he said, fixing the mask. “‘M up!”

“I see that. Didja sleep?” Jack asked as he jumped down from the counter. 

Corey nodded, raising his arms to be picked up. “I slept a _long_  time, Daddy!”

“You did? That’s great!” he said, scooping up Corey. “Now, where’s ya shirt, bud?”

“Got too hot,” Corey said with a slight pout. “Took it off.”

Jack nodded as he pulled out Corey’s favorite Spider-Man cup to pour milk in. Their middle child was like a tiny space heater when he slept, it wasn’t surprising at all that he decided to take his shirt off. “An’ why the cape an’ mask?”

“‘S my superhero costume,” Corey explained seriously. 

“An’ what superhero is that? Are ya Batman?” Jack handed him his cup.

“Nope!” He took a gulp of his milk before continuing. “‘S a superhero I made up. ‘M gonna be a superhero when I grow up, Daddy!”

Jack sat him down at the table. “An’ what superhero is that?”

“‘M gonna be a superhero baby bat duck!” Corey rattled off, like he’d been practicing it.

Really it sounded like gibberish to Jack, but he just widened his eyes in shock. “ _Wow_ , really? An’ what kinda powers does this… superhero baby bat duck have?”

Sitting across from his son with the other half of his orange, Jack nodded along as Corey explained how he had the ability to swim like a duck and fly like a bat and how he fought bad guys. 

“That… is quite the story, there, Mr. Bat Duck,” he said when Corey finished. 

Beaming, Corey hopped out of his chair. “Wait! I drew it, too! I’ll go get it!” He took off down the hall.

“Don’t wake ya brother an’ sister, Corey.” Jack called after him, shaking this head. Did that kid really get any sleep? Ever?

A moment later, Corey came bounding back into the room, a piece of paper clutched in his hand, mask gone.

Foregoing his earlier seat, he climbed in Jack’s lap, slapping the paper down in front of him. “See, Daddy?”

It was typical four-year-old scribbling, a yellow blob taking the majority of the page, a red train behind him, and a vaguely pointy hat on his head. Corey tilted his head. 

“You could draw it better, Daddy.”

“Aw, ‘course not, Corey. Lookit that.” Jack wrapped an arm around his son. “That’s real good, kid. An’ hey. What do I always say?”

Corey pursed his lips a moment before lighting up. “Anyone c’n art!”

“‘Zactly!” Shifting him off his lap, Jack led him to the refrigerator and helped him hang it on the fridge with a couple of magnets shaped like bananas. “An’ now we gots a Corey Kelly original, right here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> gah baby Corey is adorable <3333
> 
> based on an adorable picture Claire sent me but I can't find link anymore D: 
> 
> I always want to hear your thoughts!! 
> 
> Comments, concerns, and critiques welcome. Peace, love, and sanity!


	30. Back on Your Word?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> prompt: I wish you would write a fic where Katherine is surprised and delighted by something Jack (as her soulmate) draws the night before their wedding... and just as surprised, but definitely delighted, but something else. (Possibly in the "Write What You Know" realm)

Katherine furrowed her brow as the lines appeared on her right arm.

“What are you doing, Jack?” she murmured, tilting her head, trying to decipher what her fiancé was drawing on her arm.

Fiancé… she wouldn’t be calling him that after tomorrow. Tomorrow, they were going to be married, and, in a last minute fit of “tradition”, Jack had gone to stay at Davey and Charlie’s place until after the wedding.

_“Babe, you know we’ve lived together for the last two years, right?” she’d asked teasingly. “We haven’t ever really been traditional, have we?”_

_“Yeah, but, Ace…” He’d shrugged a little helplessly, rubbing the back of his neck. “I dunno, I know it’s superstitious, but, I mean? Couldn’t hurt ta give our marriage a little more luck.”  
_

She’d never really believed in luck, but it’d seemed so important to him, and it was only one night, so Katherine went along with it easily.

She was a little surprised he was even contacting her, wasn’t sure how far this tradition of his went. And he wasn’t even writing to her, just drawing. So she continued to watch, moving her arm this way and that to figure out what it was.

As suddenly as it’d started, the drawing stopped.

“ _Jack_ … What is this? It doesn’t make sense.” 

A moment later, a new line appeared on her left arm.

Katherine let out a frustrated noise. “Oh, come _on_ , Jack, quit showing off.”

He’d done this before, covered both her arms in ink like tattoo sleeves, just because he could. The lines from his right hand came out shakier than from his left, but still clear enough to make out.

She sat up suddenly, as the pieces suddenly came together in her mind, and, bring her arms together, right over left, the picture suddenly made sense.

Laughing, she reached for a pen on her nightstand, she flipped her arm to scrawl on the back of her hand. 

_What happened to “bad luck to see the bride before the wedding Ace”?_

A moment later, up by her wrist, appeared,

_Yeah well we’ve never been traditional have we?_

Then, under that,

_Are you going to let me in or what? The fire escape is cold._

She laughed again, sliding her legs out of bed and padding into the kitchen. This was definitely a surprise, what with how Jack went on about following tradition, but it was certainly not unwelcome.

Turning the corner, she saw Jack, leaning against the window, watching for her. His face split into a grin when he saw her, and she felt hers do the same. 

Pushing open the window, Katherine leaned against the sill before letting him in.  “Going back on your _word_ , Kelly? Is this what I have to look forward to in our marriage?” She leaned her head on her hand. “Why am I marrying you again?”

Jack rolled his eyes at her teasing tone. “I dunno, somethin’ ‘bout lovin’ and cherishin’ me ‘til death do us part?”

Katherine nodded seriously. “Okay, I think I can live with that.” Then, cupping his chilled cheeks, she leaned in and kissed him, careful not to smudge the minuscule rendition of her kitchen from the window on her arms. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kinda want to start referring to the settings of my stories "realms" instead of "verses" now....
> 
> Comments, concerns, and critiques. Peace, love, and sanity!


	31. Return to Prince Edward Island

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> prompt: "I wish you would write a fic where jack and kath realize they’re reincarnated in a previous life from the monstrosity verse"

Katherine didn’t understand it, but she was back.

And she remembered _early_.

The minute Davey Jacobs pulled up in his carriage to pick her up from the train station, it all came flooding back.

 _The strike. The rooftop. The_ Titanic _. Rydell High. East High. Those green eyes over and over again…_

She knew this… reincarnation, or whatever, didn’t make much logical sense—how could they meet in 1899, only to meet again for the first time in 1912?—but they’d never gone _back_  to a life.

But she made the best of it, knowing Sarah Jacobs would be prickly at first but she’d warm up eventually. Katherine made all the same decisions, knowing it would eventually lead her to Jack.

(even though it _killed_  her to dye her hair green again, and get Smalls—Diana—drunk by accident)

And she found him again.

He didn’t remember.

He pulled her braid. She broke her slate (slightly gentler than the last time).

She walks the rooftop. He sees her fall.

He leaves her an apple. She ignores it.

They fight for the top spot in the class.

He. Still. Doesn’t. Remember.

So she takes it to the next level.

Smalls tells her it’s a bad idea, but Katherine knows it’s the one time he really noticed her, without the competition, the last time. 

So she sets out, in the rickety little boat, flowers in her hair, into the lake. 

Katherine loses herself in the gentle rocking and the poem she whispers to herself, so much so that she’s actually startled as the boat starts to fill with water. Startled, she sits up, tries to scoop the water out with her hands and manages to get soaked to the bone before she grabs onto one of the beams of the bridge.

Holding on, she can only hope Jack’s following the same script as her. 

Sure enough, minutes later, Katherine sees him, in his own (much more sound) boat. He grins as he pulls the boat up to the beam.

“Get the feelin’ we’ve been here before, Kath?”

Pushing her wet hair out of her face, Katherine does her best to glare at him. “You _remember_? How long?”

“Since the day ya started daydreamin’ in school, an’ I had to get your attention by pullin’ your hair.” Jack helps her off the beam and into the boat. 

“And you didn’t say anything?” Katherine tries to appear cross with him, but she can feel the corners of her mouth twitch.

“You didn’t say nothing either,” he counters quickly, raising his eyebrow in challenge.

Katherine rolls her eyes. “So the boat…?”

Jack grins. “Just wanted to see if ya would do it again.”

“I hate you.”

“No, ya don’t.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sarah and Davey are Matthew and Marilla here, and Smalls is Diana Barry (I didn’t know if there was already a name for Smalls, so I just used Diana)
> 
> Comments, concerns, and critiques welcome. Peace, love, and sanity!


	32. Screwy

“ _Ain’t that big’a deal, Smalls. Just gotta work on m’screwball, Smalls,_ ” Smalls’ grip tightened around Albert’s neck and waist. “Careful, DaSilva, ya better not drop me, not after that stunt ya jus’ pulled.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Al hoisted Smalls higher on his back. “Why do I even put wit’ ya again?”

“Because your life would be meaningless without me.”

“I gots Elmer.”

“Elmer doesn’t have my charm.”

“Ya killin’ me, Smalls.”

Smalls kicked at him. “Ya know I hate that joke.”

“Yup,” Albert smirked, turning into the apartment building. “Why d’ya think I always say it?”

“I hate you.”

“Want me ta drop ya off here, make ya climb up by yaself?”

Smalls clung to him. “Noooooo, you promised, Al.”

Heaving a world-weary sigh, Albert tightened his grip on Smalls and began climbing the stairs. Three flights later, they were standing in front Smalls and Crutchie’s apartment.

“D’ya mind?” Albert asked. “M’hands are kinda full.”

“Forgot m’keys,” Smalls said, unhooking one arm and reaching out the knock on the door.

A moment later, they heard shuffling behind the door, and Crutchie opened the door.

He paused a moment before stepping back and letting them in. “Why ain’t I surprised?” he asked, laughing a little. “What happened this time?”

“Got hurt,” Smalls muttered.

“Who hurt you?” Crutchie asked.

Smalls smacked Albert’s head. “This idiot.”

“Cool it, Shortstop,” Al muttered, jerking his head a little. “M’screwball went a lil’… screwy,” he explained to Crutchie.

“Ya _head’s_ a lil’ screwy.” Smalls said sarcastically. 

“’m gonna _drop ya_ —”

“I knew I shoulda been there ta supervise,” Crutchie sighed, closing the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smalls and Al are my new favorite brotp, they're so much fun :D


	33. Baby Number Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pete’s about 18-ish months here :D

A hand gripping his shoulder suddenly woke Jack up. 

Bolting upright, he resisted his deep, innate instinct to throw a punch. Instead, he tried to clear his fuzzy head. “Kath?”

“Jack, Jack, something— _ohhhh_ —something’s wrong, something’s really wrong.”

His wife’s panicked voice shook the last of the sleepiness from his mind, and Jack was wide awake. “What is it, babe, what’s–what’s happenin’?”

He managed to twist around to turn on a lamp. Katherine had managed to rip the covers off her by the time he turned around, only to see blood soaked into their sheets.

Jack scrunched his eyebrows. “Nothin’ that hasn’t happened before, we’ll just change the sheets— _oh shit_.” His eyes went wide. “You’re pregnant.”

“ _No. Shit._ ” Katherine said through gritted teeth, holding her stomach. 

“Okay, okay, okay. Shit. We gotta—” Jack frantically stood up, rounding the bed to her side. “—Hospital. Can ya stand? We’ll get… We’ll get Pete, an’ we’ll take ya to the hospital, an’—”

“ _Jack_.” Her voice stopped him. His six-and-a-half month pregnant wife looked more scared than he had ever seen her. “It’s too early, this— _ah_ —this can’t be good, that’s too much _blood_  for it to be anything _but_  bad.” Katherine shook her head, eyes welling up.

“No, no, no, shhh, darlin’.” Jack cupped her face, trying to steady himself. He was scared, too, it _was_  a lot of blood, but his wife didn’t need him freaking out now. “He ain’t comin’ out yet, not ‘til he’s s’posed to. We just gotta get’cha ta the hospital just ta make sure, okay?”

Katherine nodded, swallowing hard, even as tears spilled over. “Okay. Okay. Get Pete. I–I can make it to the door.”

“Ya sure?” She nodded again, and he kissed her forehead, wiping away her tears. “Okay. We’ll be okay.”

***

“Mama! I sit wit’ you?”

Jack scooped up Pete before he could climb up on the couch, looking at Katherine, who was lying on her side, in question. She nodded, looking a little wistful. She’d been on bed rest for the last month, unable to travel much further than the distance between their room and the couch without causing more bleeding. It was killing her, not being able to be as active as she wanted, go to work, or play with their son.

“Okay, buddy, but we gotta be gentle wit’ Mama, okay? Can ya be gentle?” Pete nodded enthusiastically, and Jack set him on the couch, near Katherine’s hip. She reached out a hand out to comb her fingers through Pete’s short hair, as Jack sat on the floor in front of the couch.

Pete leaned on Katherine. “Mama okay?”

“Mama’s okay, baby,” she reassured him. “Mama just has to rest a lot because of the baby.”

“Me?” Pete’s brow wrinkled in confusion, and Katherine laughed.

“No, the baby in Mama’s tummy. He’s making me tired, so I have to rest.” 

Pete reached out a tentative finger to poke her stomach. “Dis baby?”

“Yeah,” Jack said. “That’s ya lil’ brother.”

Frowning, Pete poked Katherine’s stomach again. “Stop makin’ Mama tired. I wanna _pway_  wit’ Mama.”

Katherine laughed. “Don’t worry, buddy. Mama’ll be able to play soon. But for now, can you rest with me?”

Pete yawned, face scrunching as he did, and he nodded. Stretching out, he managed to curl himself around her bump, pillowing his head on her chest. Within a minute, he was already asleep.

Jack shook his head. “Think Number Two will be this easy?” he asked, pulling a blanket over Kath and Pete.

“With the trouble he’s given me so far?” Katherine shook her head. “Who knows?”

***

“Okay, Dad, time to cut the umbilical cord.”

Jack couldn’t help but let out a sigh of relief. The last two and a half months had been rough, right up to this moment. Corey—they’d finally picked a name last month—had decided to make things even tougher on Mom and Dad, trying to wedge his shoulder out before his head.

But he was out now, and Jack accepted the scissors from the nurse, cutting the cord with a much steadier hand than he had with Pete, and Corey was whisked away to be cleaned up. 

Jack moved back to stand next to Katherine in the bed, lacing their fingers together and kissing the back of her hand. She sighed, rolling her head tiredly towards him. 

“Well,” she sighed again. “That was… an adventure.”

He laughed, squeezing her hand. “Ya did great, baby.”

“I know.”

Jack laughed again, pressing a kiss to her head. 

“Alright, here he is, Dad,” one of the nurses said, bringing Corey back, swaddled in a blanket. 

Taking his son— _second_ son—in his arms, Jack couldn’t help put marvel at this little boy who’d made their lives difficult before he even entered the world.

When he married Katherine, he didn’t think he’d ever love anyone like he loved  her. Then they had Pete, and he thought the same. 

Now, holding Corey, Jack couldn’t believe his heart was capable of feeling so _full_. 

He turned to allow Katherine to hold their son, just in time to see her curl in on herself, grimacing. “Kath? What–?”

“She’s losing a lot of blood!” the doctor said suddenly, and, in an instant, the room was bustling with activity. “Get her to an OR, prep a unit of whole blood!”

Before Jack could ask what was happening, the sides of her bed were pushed down, Katherine was transferred to a gurney and wheeled out of the room, leaving Jack holding Corey, completely stunned. 

***

A couple hours later, Jack had been updated on what happened to Katherine—  _“It happens, sometimes, especially on a second or third child. She’ll be fine, we just have to get the bleeding stopped.”_ —and was sitting in a chair next to her bed, waiting for her to wake up. 

Corey’d been taken to the nursery to be fed and to sleep for a bit, and Jack was already missing him. If nothing else, there’d be someone else in the room, awake. 

It was too late to call anyone now, even though they all insisted that he wake him up when Corey came, but it felt wrong to have anyone come see Corey when Kath hadn’t even met him.

He’d called Davey and Chaya earlier, just after Kath went in to surgery, to check on Pete, who was ecstatic that his little brother was finally here and couldn’t wait to meet him the next morning. 

The door clicking open broke him out of his thoughts, and Jack looked up to see a nurse holding Corey. “Mr. Kelly? Would you like to see your son?”

He nodded, holding his arms out for his son, not able to trust his voice right now. 

She set Corey in his outstretched arms, smiling a little as she closed the door behind her. 

Corey blinked up at him. “Look at’chu,” Jack said. “I swear’s ya eyes’re already darker, kid. Ya gonna have Mama’s eyes? Pete does. An’ Mama’s eyes are the prettiest I’ve ever seen, so’s I’m okay if both ya boys get ‘em.”

Unimpressed, Corey stretched an arm out, his mouth forming a little ‘o’ as he yawned. 

“That’s ya Mama.” Jack turned him a little towards Katherine’s bed. “Ya gave her a hard time, lil’ man. She’s gonna be okay, don’ worry ‘bout that. But you’ve given us too many scares, an’ she had a couple’a problems afta’ ya came out. But’chu know what?” Corey stared past his head. “Ya Mama’s the strongest girl I know. We’re gonna be fine.” 

He wasn’t sure if he was reassuring himself or Corey at this point.

They sat there for who-knew-how-long, Jack just watching Corey drift in and out of sleep, and wait for Katherine to wake up.

“Hey,” a soft voice said next to him, startling him slightly. He looked up to see Katherine, sleepy-looking, but awake, smiling softly at them.

“Hey,” he said back, standing to sit on the edge of her bed. “Wanna meet Baby Number Two?”

She laughed a little and nodded. “Let me meet Corey.”

After she’d sat up, Jack transferred Corey into her arms. Cradling him to her chest, Katherine shifted the blanket so she could see his face better.

“Oh,” she breathed. “Look at that, Jack, he looks just like you.”

“Nah,” Jack shook his head. “I had a lotta time ta look at ‘im, Lookit those ears, that’s all you, Ace. Hair’s too light, too.”

Katherine was quiet a moment, tracing Corey’s features lightly with a finger as he settled into her.

“Kath?”

“I–I know we always talked about more than two,” Katherine said, looking at Corey rather than him. “I had six siblings growing up, you had the boys, but… I don’t know if I can go through that again. I don’t want to say never, but–”

He set a hand on her leg. “I get’cha, baby. We don’t gotta figure anythin’ out now, but y’know. I think two boys’s enough ta add to the mix.”

She looked up at him then. “For sure?” she asked, cracking a little smile.

“For sure.”

***

_A Little More Than Two Years Later_

They stared at the little plastic stick on the bathroom counter, the little plus sign glaring mockingly at them.

“Well… shit.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yep that little plus sign is little Miss Lucille Anne XD


	34. Baby Number Three

“Who hurt you?” Jack immediately raised to his feet at Katherine’s grunt of discomfort. The boys were still too rowdy, no matter how often Jack reminded them to be careful around Kath and the baby.

“Who do you think?” she said, rubbing a hand over her bump. “This one keeps kicking.”

“But… that’s it? S’just kickin’? Not…”

Katherine laid a placating hand on the side of his face. “No, Jack. Not like with Corey. Just normal kicking.”

Baby Number Three had surprised them both. After the trouble she’d had during her pregnancy with Corey, that hadn’t really planned on another child. They’d been more than a little cautious since finding out she was pregnant, each nudge and mild discomfort becoming a warning rather than normal pregnancy symptoms.

Katherine had been just four months along and feeling Baby Number Three kick much earlier than she had the boys. Jack knew Katherine would be able to tell if something were truly wrong, but he couldn’t help but feel nervous.

She was now almost at seven months, just past the time she’d started having problems with Corey, and they were both a little antsy.

Katherine moved her hand to grasp his, pulling him around the couch to sit next to her. “What do you think?” she asked, determined not to think about the past. “Are we done waiting? Should we open the envelope?”

They’d never been for gender reveals, didn’t do them for either of their boys—though Kate _desperately_ wanted them too, like Connie and Edith had—but they’d always found out before the birth.

But with Baby Number Three…

It’s like they were afraid to find out. Like it’d make it real.

What could make a pregnancy more real than the baby bump and morning sickness, Katherine didn’t know, but they hadn’t opened the envelope, had always told the technician they didn’t want to know.

Jack shrugged, toying with her fingers, his thumb circling her ring finger. “I dunno, Ace, what’re ya thinkin’?”

She rolled the idea in her head, looking at their linked hands. “I think… there’s no need to put it off anymore. It’s happening, we might as well be prepared like we were with Pete and Corey.”

“Ya sure?”

Bringing her other hand to his face, Katherine kissed him, lingering a bit, leaning her forehead against his. She nodded. “I’m sure.”

***

 _A girl_ , Katherine thought, later that night. … _Lucy. Lucy Kelly._

They were in bed after putting the boys to bed. Jack had passed out the minute his head hit the pillow, but Katherine was lying awake, staring at the ceiling, thinking.

She hadn’t told Jack that’s Lucy was what she was thinking, name-wise, but she was. Connie, Edith, and Herbie had all had each other, being the three youngest, Joey had Ralph, and Katherine?

Katherine had Lucy.

And Katherine had lost Lucy.

She looked at her stomach, at the bump that poked out from under her sleep shirt. Lucy kicked. Rubbing a small circle underneath her bellybutton, Katherine whispered, “Don’t worry, baby. I won’t lose you too.”


	35. Hot Older Guy

“Nah, but ‘m just _sayin’,_ ” Race said, crossing one ankle over the other. His feet were on his pillow, by Spot, and his head was at the foot of the bed. “I’ve seen pictures of your dad, ‘fore… everythin’. Ya dad was hot.”

Spot dropped his book. “I’m sorry, _what_?”

“That’s not everythin’, lemme finish. Ya dad’s one’a those Hot Older Guys, which means you’ll be a Hot Older Guy. Which is a real problem f’r me.”

“Racer, this ain’t gettin’ any clearer, jump ‘head ta the endin’.”

Race gave him an incredulous look. “Ya don’t _get_ it?”

“Enlighten me,” Spot said drily.

Scrunching his nose, Race kicked at Spot’s shoulder. “You’ve been spendin’ too much time wit’ Davey. _Anyways_ , you’ve seen _my_ dad, an’ he def’nitely _ain’t_ a Hot Older Guy. He’s jus’ a reg’lar Old White Guy.”

Spot dropped his head on the headboard. “Oh my _god,_ Tony, get ta the point, you’re less interestin’ than torts.”

“Can’t insult me if I don’ know what’cha talkin’ ‘bout.” Race stuck his tongue out at him. “ _I_ look like my dad. _You_ look like ya dad. _‘m_ gonna be a reg’lar Old White Guy. _You’re_ gonna be a Hot Older Guy.”

“One, ya half-Italian. Two, I still don’t see the problem.”

“Ya gonna stay all Hot an’ shit, an’ ‘m gonna turn inta this wrinkled old guy an’ ya gonna _forget_ me!” Race threw an arm over his eyes dramatically.

After a moment of nothing from his boyfriend, Race peeked out from under his arm, only to see Spot giving him an odd look.

“What?”

“I could never forget you,” Spot said seriously.

Race met his gaze a moment before he laughed, unwittingly, and unhooked one of his feet to push at Spot’s head. “Oh my god, that’s so _gaaaayyyyy,_ Spot,” he teased.

“Get’cha fuckin’ feet outta my face,” Spot growled, swiping a hand down his face to hide the bright pink blush on his cheeks.

“Aww, babe.” Folding his legs back under him, Race pulled himself up, crawling towards Spot, who was still hiding his face. Sliding his arms around Spot’s broad shoulders, he pressed a kiss to his hair, then his temple, then to a _very_ warm cheek. “Didn’t know Spot Conlon was capable’a blushin’.”

Spot groaned. “I was _tryin’_ ta be serious.”

Fighting back another laugh, Race slid one leg over Spot’s, settling in his lap. Tugging his hands away from his face, he tried to meet his boyfriend’s eyes. With as much seriousness he could muster—which wasn’t hard, he meant every word—Race said, “I could never forget ya, either, Sean.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this is the only thing being updated right now!! I move into my dorm Friday and hopefully after I settle there, I’ll be able to get back to my other stories!!


	36. What's In A Name? A Lot, That's What

Crutchie opened the door to their apartment and immediately knew something was wrong.

It was too dark, too quiet. Smalls hated sitting in the dark, couldn’t stand the quiet—he rarely came home to see anything other than all the lights on in their apartment and the music on Smalls’ phone and the sound on the TV up as loud as possible.

Coming home to… to _this_? Something was wrong.

“Smalls? Babe, are ya home?” he asked, dropping his keys on the table next to the door and making his way into the apartment.

A low moan came from by the couch and Crutchie rounded the couch to see Smalls sprawled out on the floor, head lolled back on the cushions.

“You’ve been drinking tonight, haven’t you?” he asked, a little needlessly as he sat on the couch next to Smalls’ head. There was a bottle of scotch on the floor that he was pretty sure was mostly full that morning—now there was less than a quarter left.

“Hnnnnggghhh,” Smalls said in reply, trying to climb up on the couch next to him.

Crutchie gripped Smalls’ upper arms to aid in the climbing on the couch. “Alrigh’, there we go.”

Once Smalls was on the couch—mostly, one leg still hung off—and he turned on the lamp by the couch, he finally asked, “Okay, can you tell me what happened?”

“No.”

“Okay.”

“S’m’stupid _mom_ ,” Smalls moaned, as Crutchie nodded. He knew if he got Smalls talking, he’d learn what happened. “She called me _Samantha_ ,” Smalls spat out, legs kicking a little, one landing in Crutchie’s lap.

Rubbing a hand on Smalls’ leg, he pointed out, “Ya let me call ya Samantha. Al, too, sometimes.”

“Yeah but you an’ Albert _know_ when I _wanna_ be called S’mantha, She just _calls_ me it.”

Crutchie made a sympathetic noise. It’d been a problem since they started dating, even long before, Smalls’ mother. She just didn’t—or wouldn’t—understand her child, who never fell into the strict binary she wanted them to. And she _always_ called Smalls ‘Samantha’, whether Smalls wanted it or not.

There wasn’t too much he could do right now, with Smalls drunk, but just be here. And as much as he wanted to call Mrs. Hunt, Smalls would probably kill him.

“Alright, c’mere.” Wrangling Smalls in this condition was difficult; Drunk Smalls always went limp as a rag doll, but he managed to get his partner fully on the couch, and tucked into his side

Smalls curled under his arm. “Mmm, you’re warm.”

“Yeah, you’ve said that before,” Crutchie said with a smile, turning on the TV for white noise.

“Imma mess.” Nose scrunched, Smalls’ face nuzzled into his chest.

“Just when you drink,” he said fondly, running his fingers through the short hair sticking up in odd angles on top of Smalls’ head.

They absently watched the show on the television in front of them for a few minutes before Smalls said, “’m gonna be _real_ hungover t’morrow.”

“Probably.”

Smalls sighed. “I love ya, Charlie.”

“I love ya, too, Smalls.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I heckin' love Crutchie and Smalls thanks.


	37. Adventures in Babysitting

Spot Conlon had taken down many a challenge in his life.

A dad who drank too much after Mom died, and got a little punchy when he did, guys who thought he was an easy target because he was short, even a fairly manipulative ex of almost five years, and he’d gotten through it all.

But this little shit of a Kelly was going to be the end of him

“I was not trained for this!” Spot groaned as Pete rounded the couch again. How could something that couldn’t even walk move so _fast_?

Kathy’d warned them that their eight month old was crawling like crazy, but she didn’t warn them their kid knew how to _move_.

Jack and Katherine hadn’t even been gone an hour and Pete had managed to lap around the living room a dozen times, refusing to sit still for either of his uncles.

Race snorted. “What trainin’ d’ya _have,_ Spotty? Ya were a barista for four years, how’s that s’posed ta translate to babysittin’?”

Grasping the edge of the coffee table, Pete pulled himself up so he was standing, making noises so his uncles wouldn’t forget he was there. “Aaah-aah-aaah!” he babbled, before falling back on his diapered butt.

“Is that right, Petey?” Race asked, taking a careful step around the couch. “Ya think Uncle Spotty’s full of it?”

Pete watched Race, brown eyes wide and thumb in his mouth, but didn’t move.

“Uncle Racer’s gonna get it if he don’t stop talkin’ ‘bout me like the kid can understand ‘im,” Spot muttered.

“Pete knows what ‘m talkin’ ‘bout, don’t’cha—” Race took one step too close and Pete shrieked suddenly, crawling away as fast as he could. “Spot, get ‘im!”

***

Another half hour had gone by, and Pete finally wore himself out. Spot had try to lay him down on his blanket, but he started fussing every time, so he stretched out on the couch with the kid on his chest.

Race sat on the floor in front of the couch, tilting his head back to see them. “Ain’t even a year old, an’ he’s great at causin’ trouble—def’nitely a Kelly.”

“Nah,” Spot said, looking down at the boy. “Jackie was a pretty mellow kid, this one’s a Plumber f’r sure.”

Race laughed, softly so he wouldn’t wake up Pete. “Well, for someone who don’t want kids, ya do a pretty good job’a chasin’ one down.”

Spot was quiet a moment. “Well I wouldn’t say I don’t _want_ kids,” he said nonchalantly, and Race sat up.

“Really?” Race didn’t mean to sound so shocked, but his husband had never shown any sign of ever wanting a kid, and he’d known him seven years, six of which they’d been together.

Spot’s tone suddenly turned defensive. “Ain’t _that_  shockin’, is it? Used have siblin’s an’ shit, an’ we didn’t do too bad with Pete.” 

“I just… neva’ woulda pegged ya f’r a kids man.”

Spot ran a hand through his hair. “Well def’nitely not _now_ , not wit’ you bein’ on the road an’ me still in law school, but… One of these days, yeah. I’d have a kid wit’cha Tony.”

Pete yawned, curling into Spot’s chest, and Race smiled. “Well, I gotta say, ya look good wit’ a baby on ya chest.”

Spot nudged the back of his head with his knee. “I look good _always,_ Higgins.”

“Can’t argue wit’ that.”


	38. Three Sentence Fic Part 3

**BFF Crutchie and Jack, Punks 'verse**

“Here, Crutch, whaddaya think?” Jack asked, holding out his sketchbook for Crutchie to see the sketch he’d done for Crutchie’s tattoo.

His friend took a long look at the sketch of his upper back and shoulders, with intricate wings stretching from his shoulder blades, down the back of his shoulders, ending just at his elbows. 

“It’s…” Crutchie cleared his throat before continuing. “Even betta’ than I pictured it.”

 

*~*~*~*~*

 

**Lucy and Brooklyn, terrorizing their fathers**

Twin high-pitched shrieks pierced the air as Lucy and Bee caught their dads in a corner, aiming their guns and firing, causing the vests strapped to the men vibrate and the lights to go dim.

“Y’know,” Spot grunted as he, Race, and Jack ducked behind a wall before the girls could fire again. “Our kid was perfectly fine until she met yours—now she’s all corrupt an’ shit.”

 

*~*~*~*~*

 

**Kath and Happiness, Punks 'verse**

Kath sighed contentedly, tracing the lines of the sleeve on her left arm, the swirling, delicate flowers, and scanned the horizon, the waves crashing and the sun setting.

Out by the waterline, Jack followed their daughter closely as Harper carefully picked up each and every little seashell she could find, turning and handing them back to her father before toddling ahead.

Linking her hands around the leg drawn to her chest and setting her chin on her knee, Katherine felt like her heart was full, and couldn’t believe her little family came out of a chance meeting in their sophomore year College Algebra class.

 

*~*~*~*~*

 

**Domestic Jack and Kath**

Sighing, Katherine stretched out her legs, tucking her toes under Jack’s leg as she stretched her arms over her head, managing to pop her back before returning to the notes on her laptop.

Balancing his tablet on his thigh, Jack grasped her ankle, thumb lightly brushing the skin, and they sat there, reveling in the quiet—

 _Crash._ “Mom, Dad!”

“Your turn,” they said in unison. 

 

*~*~*~*~*

 

**Jack and Katherine, _On The Street Where You Live_ 'verse**

They walked their bikes side-by-side in silence from the lot where they played baseball to her house.

Finally, she asked, “Was I really that bad?”

“Well…” Jack considered his words carefully before saying “Yeah, but Spot didn’t hafta say it ta ya face.”

 

*~*~*~*~*

 

**Sprace, roommates**

“That’s m’last bag—an’ we’s roommates! Oh my god,” Race’s eyes lit up before he cackled and added, “They were _roommates_.”

Spot rolled his eyes, wondering if putting the ad for a new roommate was worth it—hot or no, if this guy was going to be quoting vines or memes or whatever the hell it was, he might have to kick him out on the first day.

 

*~*~*~*~*

 

**Platonic Katherine and Davey, college AU**

Katherine dropped her head on the table, groaning into her arms and saying, “That’s _it_ , I give up, I’ll just join the circus or something.”

“Sounds great, can I join you?” Davey asked, dropping his pencil in solidarity.

They sat there stubbornly for a minute, staring blankly at the wall, at the table, before sighing, and picking up their pencils, resigning themselves to studying once more.

 

*~*~*~*~*

 

**Jack and Katherine, Punks 'verse**

“S’a good look f’r ya, Red,” Jack grinned as she managed to get her hand through the sleeve to take his hand again.

She twisted her shoulders a little, letting his leather jacket settle around her and said with a little grin, “Thanks.”

Raising their joined hands so he could kiss the back of hers, he winked at her and said, “Anytime, darlin’.”

 

*~*~*~*~*

 

**Sprace roadtrip au**

“Conlon, I swears ta God if ya don’t stop bein’ so overdramatic—” Race let his threat hand in the air, glancing at his boyfriend who was gripping the armrest of the passenger seat.

“Ya _drivin’_  like a maniac, Racer—oh my god, I get it now, that’s why ya called Race, ‘cause ya can’t _drive_ , I’m gonna die, ain’t I?” Spot groaned, closing his eyes as they swerved around another car.

Race rolled his eyes and said, “ _Fine_ , we’ll switch at the next rest stop—I need more Twizzlers anyway—”

“— _God_ pay attention!”

 

*~*~*~*~*

 

**Sprace, proposal AU**

“I want Chinese,” Spot declared, rounding the corner out of the kitchen to enter the living room before asking “They deliver on Christmas Eve, ri–” He stopped abruptly, narrowly avoiding slipping and falling on the hardwood floor.

Race was kneeling in the middle of the living room, with a ring in his hand and a hopeful smile on his face, and Spot felt his heart beat faster.

“I… dinner can—wait, oh my _god…”_


	39. Flight Risk

Davey’s brow furrowed as he stepped inside his apartment, hearing the TV on in the other room—he’d been rushing out the door this morning, he hadn’t even had time to get coffee, let alone watch the news, he shouldn’t had left it on.

Edging around the corner, Davey poked his head into the living room to see a mop of messy red hair poking over the back of the couch. Sighing a quiet breath of relief, he wondered how he hadn’t guessed earlier.

“Did you run away from home again?”

“Not runnin’ away,” Pete grumbled into one of the pillows. “Mom and Dad know I always come here. Doesn’t count.”

Davey shook his head, standing at the opposite end of the couch to look at Pete. “Do they know now?”

“…No.”

Pulling his phone out of his pocket, Davey moved back towards the kitchen. “Then you know I have to call them.”

Groaning, Pete rolled over onto his back. “ _Please_  Uncle Davey, just let me stay here tonight?”

Davey clicked through his apps, looking for Jack’s contact. “I’m sorry, but no, Pete. Your mom and dad are probably worried enough as it is, I have to let them know.”

His nephew made a whining noise, dropping an arm dramatically over his eyes, causing Davey to laugh. Teenagers were dramatic, he knew that from teaching them forty hours a week, but a Kelly-Plumber teenager?

Whole other brand. 

He couldn’t _wait_ until Lucy turned thirteen.

After talking to Jack—who had only been on the verge of panicking, not full-on panicked—Davey put in an order at the Thai place that was sure to quell any bad mood Pete was still in.

Entering the living room again, he said to Pete, “Dad says you can stay for dinner, and then I’ll walk ya back to the subway. How’s that sound?”

“I can walk myself to the subway,” Pete grumbled.

“Apparently Jack thinks you’re a flight risk, what with running away and breaking into my apartment—How’d you get in, anyways?”

Pete wouldn’t look him in the eye. “Found Mom’s copy this morning and took it.”

“Well,” Davey said, setting his bag down and sitting on the couch next to Pete. “ _That’s_ illegal, but I’ll let it slide if you tell me why you’re here.”

Pete stayed stubbornly quiet, causing Davey to snort softly. For all his mother’s looks, the teenager was more like his father than he knew.

“Alright,” Davey pulled out his stack of essays to grade. “You sit there and not talk until the food gets here if ya want. I’m gonna go sit in the kitchen and grade, okay?”

He still didn’t say anything, so Davey stood to go into the kitchen. Pete’d come around. If nothing else, food would get him talking.

“Uncle Davey?”

“Yeah?”

Pete shifted so he could look at him. “Thanks f’r lettin’ me stay,” he mumbled.

Davey ruffled his hair. “Anytime, kid. Used ta help your dad run away too, feels only right to continue the tradition.”

It took Pete a moment to process that, shooting Davey a confused look when it did. “Dad—?”

“Some things never change,” Davey said cryptically, before turning and going into the kitchen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pete and Uncle Davey are bros you cAN FIGHT ME ON THAT
> 
> (oh, and Pete's roughly 14/15 here, so he's a full-on high school moody teenager)


	40. Kelly's Epistaxis

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kelly’s Epistaxis: the medical phenomenon of one’s nose spontaneously breaking because said person is an idiot. Named after a certain Jack Kelly.

“Hey, Doc, is Jackie gonna be alright? What’s wrong wit’ ‘im?”

“Yes,” she said gruffly, applying the dressing to Jack’s nose, pressing harder than necessary if the low hiss he emitted was anything to go by. “He’s just an idiot,” Katherine said unapologetically, moving away from the table and snapping off her gloves.

Race snorted from his spot in the corner. “Didn’t know bein’ an idiot could break ya nose.”

Katherine smirked at him as she washed her hands. “It’s a new medical phenomenon. They’re thinking about calling it Kelly’s Epistaxis.”

She could practically hear Jack roll his two black eyes. “Y’know, Plumber, ya’d seem a whole lot tougher if ya didn’t use them big words no one c’n understand.” His voice was a little thick, slightly nasally through the gauze.

Shutting off the water, she reached for the towel. Ignoring Jack—something she excelled at—Katherine turned to the other boys. “Anyone else hurt, or just Kelly? Charlie, you okay? How’s the leg?”

Charlie shifted the heating pad from under his knee, shot her a smile. “Betta’ Kath, thanks,” he said, reaching for his crutches to stand.

“Al? Elmer?” The two shook their heads, barely looking up from the impromptu card game they’d struck up while they’d been cleared. “Tony, put your cigarette out, you’re going to kill yourself with those. And the four of you are cleared for… whatever it is you do. Kelly stay back.”

“Silly doc, my anxiety’ll kill me ‘fore the smokin’ does,” Race said, even as he snubbed the cigarette out on the doorframe on his way out, leading the other boys out.

She rolled her eyes and turned back to Jack, who was reclining on the table with his arms behind his head. “Knew I was ya favorite, Plumber,” he said cockily.

Katherine knew his type, could tell he was going for “cool and suave”, but with the skin around his eyes rapidly purpling and the thick padded gauze of his splint, he just couldn’t pull it off.

Huffing a laugh, she pulled a flashlight from her pocket to shine in his eyes. “It’s a good thing I’m contracted and not charging by the patient, Kelly, because you wouldn’t be able to afford me.”

He blink, squeezing his eyes shut as she clicked off the flashlight. “Give it ta me straight, doc. Am I gonna live?”

“Looks like you might have a slight concussion. Take Tylenol if you get a headache, come back if it gets worse. You know,” she added with a smirk as she sat in a chair next to him, scribbling on her clipboard to add to his—growing—file. “So I can do some further research for the Kelly Epistaxis, find out if there’s a connection to brain activity.”

Jack swung his legs off the table, letting them dangle. “Only connection’s that they was goin’ afta’ Crutchie an’ I got in the way.”

Katherine didn’t know what it was the boys did on the day-to-day—it was better that way, she couldn’t incriminate herself—but she knew they ran with a rough crowd, if all the broken limbs she’d set and the countless stitches she’d sewn was any indication.

“Charlie’s a force to be reckoned with when his leg isn’t acting up,” she pointed out. “And even then he’d rather go down swinging than give up.”

“Yeah, he’s an idiot, ain’t he?”

“Must be a job requirement.”

Jack cocked an eyebrow, hiding a wince remarkably well. “An’ what was they lookin’ for when they hired you? Pretty doctor wit’ a smart mouth on her?”

Katherine leaned back in her chair to look at him properly, considering his question. She thought about lying, saying it was just a job, they needed someone who had the medical training, but Jack was smarter than that. He knew what he was involved in, and she knew it had to be pretty shady if they hired her with her history.

So she told him the truth. “A doctor with morally gray values, who didn’t ask a lot of questions, and wouldn’t go to the cops about anything they saw. That’s all it took.”


	41. One Hundred Words

He missed the sound of her voice.

They were never a couple who sat still very long, save for a pocket of time here or there, rare quiet evenings in their home, stretched out on their threadbare couch. That just wasn’t them.

Their mornings were rushed and harried, shouting “ _I love you!_ ”s to the other end of the apartment from the door on their way out. If Jack wasn’t talking a mile a minute, Katherine was, and vice versa. They laughed at dinner, swapping stories about their days—even sex was filled with words, breathed into skin, whispered between lips.

He loved hearing her talk.

Now, their home was too quiet, and Jack didn’t know what to do.

Flipping her hand over to look at her counter, he sighed. 

_023_

In the beginning, Katherine had pushed the limits, seen how much she could toe the line before she got caught, sure it was just some silly rule no one actually meant.

Then they saw what happened to Smalls, when she… well, he… went over his hundred words on a day where he wasn’t a she, no matter how the government wanted to classify him as, no matter what was under his clothes.

It wasn’t pretty, and Katherine stopped talking.

At first, he’d tried to talk _more_ , feeling the need to fill the silence, even if it was meaningless stories about how he got coffee that day, or a childhood story she’d heard a thousand times.

But the pain in her eyes she couldn’t accurately describe to him was enough to make him shut up.

She’d tried sign language before it became a forbidden language, writing on scraps of paper before the pens were taken away, and, in a last-ditch attempt, flipped through books to try and spell out what she wanted to say.

And then her books were taken too.

They didn’t talk.

Jack snuck home paper and pens to her when he could, unlocked the cabinet with the books late, late at night with the curtains drawn so she could at least have that, but it wasn’t enough, never enough. 

Their once-rare quiet evenings became more and more frequent until he’d almost found the same comfort in them as he had the chatter-filled nights.

Almost.

They were watching TV—some mindless government-issued propaganda neither of them bought—when Katherine’s hand settled on his arm, thumb drifting aimlessly over the skin of the inside of his arm before her actions became more and more deliberate.

_I love you_

_I love you_

Over and over again in the same spot, her thumb branding the words into his skin.

_I love you_

_I love you_

“I love you.”

Jack hadn’t realized his eyes had drifted shut until they snapped open again at the sound of her voice. His eyes darted down to the counter on her wrist, to be sure he hadn’t imagined it.

_026_

Brushing back her hair, he gave her a soft smile. “I love ya too, Ace. So damn much.”

She leaned into his touch briefly before something hardened in her features and Katherine suddenly sat up.

“I love you.”

_029_

Before Jack could answer, she was talking, rambling, more like, like she had before.

“I love you. I love you I love you I love you, Jack Kelly, so fucking—so damn—so _much_ , it hurts to breathe—” 

_053_

“Kath, honey, ya can’t—”

But she was on a roll.

Swinging her leg over, she straddled his lap, still babbling. “I miss it, I miss you, I miss how things used to be, I wish I wasn’t trapped in my _own damn head_ all the time—”

_079_

Her fists clenched, grasping at the fabric of his shirt, tears spilling over. “I wish I could hold _one fucking normal conversation_ with you, not just nodding along like some bobble-head—”

_097_

Jack couldn’t think of anything else to do, but he could feel her pulse racing in her wrists, knew what would happen if the counter hit _101_ , so, cupping the back of her head with one hand, he clamped a hand over her mouth, stopping the stream of words.

Shock and indignation flashed in her eyes before she bit down on his hand, _hard_ , pummeling his chest with her fists.

Wincing, he grappled with her a moment, trying not to hurt her, knowing his wife well enough that there was some part of her that was kicking herself for getting  closer to the limit than she had since this whole thing happened.

Jack managed to reverse their positions, moving so he was hovering over her, hand still over her mouth—more because she hadn’t let go yet than anything. He could feel her tears under his palm and he swore he could feel his heart break for her.

He moved the hand from her head, holding her tight to his chest. “Shh, shh, baby, please, you can’t, I know it’s fuckin’ shitty an’ if I could do anythin’ ‘bout it, I would, but ya can’t go over, I can’t lose ya too, but we’ll figure this out, we’ll find a way ‘round this, I promise ya Kath’rine…”

He lost track of his words, meaningless platitudes whispered into her hair, pleading with her. Finally, Katherine stopped fighting him, just sat there, limply holding onto him, before pulling away slightly to bat at his wrist so he’d let go.

Jack studied her a moment before removing his hand, and Katherine took a shuddering breath as he settled next to her, holding her hand tight.

After a moment, she looked down at him with tears still clinging to her eyelashes and whispered, “I love you.”

_100_

_100_

_100_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> based on the book _Vox_ by Christina Dalcher


End file.
